


Names We've Forgotten

by carryaworld



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Body Swap, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Inspired by Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name., Katsuki family adopts Victor: a saga, Kimi no Na wa AU, M/M, Mari is best older sister, Non Linear Timeline, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Slow Burn, T is for Yurio's mouth, Temporary Character Death, Time Travel, and boy do I mean Slow, it's not bad don't worry, not quite canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 46,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19156087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: Two souls, one comet, and a love that transcends all time.Yuuri wants to be a world renowned skater, and Victor wants to know love beyond the ice. They find what they’re looking for in each other, with a helping hand from the universe.





	1. Victor

**Author's Note:**

> hooooooo boy. I don't know where to start, so I'll just profess my undying gratitude to Spud (@poetatertot), who has listened to me rant about this fic since its inception, and still offered to beta it for me. She's an angel, you may thank her profusely for making this flow so much better. 
> 
> This fic is a marriage of YOI and Kimi no na wa (no need to have seen the movie), rather than a retelling of one or the other.  
> Timelines in Kimi no na wa don’t always make sense, please bear with me since I tried to make them a little clearer. The years are based off Kimi no na wa rather than YOI for the sake of my goddamn sanity. 
> 
> I love this thing, it's a piece of my heart, and I hope you enjoy it as well <3

_I’m always searching for something… for someone._

 

*

 

_[NHK Trophy, November 29, 2013]_

 

Victor turns as his name is called out in the crowd. It’s thick with skaters and fans alike exiting the rink, and he’s sure that it’s just another person asking for an autograph.

 

But the person is looking at him with a different sort of recognition, and Victor doesn’t know what to make of it.

 

“Do I know you?” he asks, confused.

 

He doesn’t know how, but he clearly just broke this boy’s heart.

 

“It’s me, don’t you remember?” the boy tries, and when Victor doesn’t show any kind of recognition, he slumps.

 

“Sorry to bother you,” the boy mumbles and turns away.

 

“Wait!” Victor catches him by the wrist, desperate for reasons he can’t explain. “What is your name?”

 

The crowd is pressing close in on them, and Victor knows that this moment is going to end.

 

“Yuuri,” the boy says, and then he’s pulled away by the crowd.

 

Victor is left standing, a cord in his hand that must have gotten pulled off Yuuri’s wrist. _Oh no,_ he’s just inadvertently stolen someone’s bracelet.

 

He scans the crowd, desperate.  

 

All he catches is a glimpse of a head of dark hair and wide eyes behind large blue glasses. And then it’s gone, and Victor doesn’t know what to think. He’s in the back seat of a taxi with Yakov when he finally takes a closer look.

 

Victor carefully uncurls his hand. “What is that?” his coach asks gruffly.

 

In his palm sits a woven cord made up of deep blues and soft purples. It’s unassuming and certainly nothing special, but something urges him to keep it close.

 

“A good luck charm,” he tells Yakov, who scoffs.

 

Victor doesn’t really believe in good luck charms either, but he winds and secures the cord around his right ring finger anyway.

 

Cynically, he thinks, it can symbolize his marriage to skating and the ice.

 

*

 

_[Hasetsu, September 1, 2013]_

 

Victor wakes slowly, enjoying the sensation of starting his day without an alarm. No alarm means it’s Sunday— the only off day Yakov allows him— and he’ll be damned if he gets out of bed before ten.

 

Hunger and the desperate need to pee, however, force him to open his eyes.

 

The world is fuzzy from sleep.. He blinks and scrubs his eyes to no avail; everything remains infuriatingly out of focus.

 

Victor has never needed glasses in his life. Is this some sort of bizarre medical condition? Is he going blind?

 

He fumbles around until his hand lands on a pair of what feels like glasses. When or how they got there is a question for later; he jams them on his face in his desperation to see.

 

He very nearly rips them back off.

 

This is not his room. He knows because his own face is staring down at him from the walls, which are decorated with posters he doesn’t remember posing for.

 

Victor looks down and promptly falls off the bed, earning a disgruntled noise from a displeased dog. That at least is familiar, even if this body is not.

 

He drags himself to the mirror and gapes at the reflection. _Definitely_ not his body, though he can’t complain. The face that stares back at him is that of a young Japanese man with tousled dark hair and soft brown eyes.

 

Curiosity temporarily replaces his panic as he takes inventory of this new body.

 

The door slams open as he’s feeling himself up, and he tumbles over backwards in his surprise.

 

“Yuuri!” the figure in the doorway barks. “If you don’t hurry up you’re going to be late to lessons with Minako-sensei! You _know_ she hates when you’re late.”

 

Victor scrambles upright and tries not to stare at this newcomer.

 

“Um, okay.”

 

She squints at him. “Quit acting so weird. If you hurry, you’ll have time to grab the bento mom made for you.”

 

A sister, perhaps?

 

“Okay!” Victor chirps.

 

Thankfully she doesn’t interrogate him beyond that, leaving him to his confusion. Who is Yuuri? Who is Minako-sensei?

 

The sound of paws hitting the floor distracts him and he finds himself looking at a smaller version of Makkachin.

 

“Well aren’t you precious,” he coos, ruffling the dog’s ears until he remembers he’s supposed to be going somewhere.

 

He dresses from stuff he finds in the drawers, choosing athletic wear simply because of the familiar comfort. There’s a sports bag tucked in the corner, and he’s delighted to find skates in it.

 

Whoever Yuuri is, he skates too. On a whim, Victor takes the bag with him when he leaves the room. He still has no idea where he is, but fortunately the girl waylays him in the hallway, stuffing a container in his hands.

 

He learns from Yuuri’s mother that her name is Mari.

 

“Walk with your brother to Minako’s, I don’t think he’s awake yet,” she chides, shoving a pair of dance shoes into the sports bag. “He nearly forgot his shoes.”

 

“Moooommm,” she complains, but drags Victor out the door when he smiles at her. “Don’t make that face at me, I know you’re sneaking off to the rink after.”

 

She isn’t wrong. Does Yuuri have a habit of hiding at the rink too?

 

Minako-sensei, he learns, is a very accomplished danseur. He’s grateful for Lilia’s instruction— it’s the only reason he’s able keep up with the brutal lesson.

 

Whoever Yuuri is, he’s evidently much better than Victor.

 

“That’s not quite right, Yuuri,” she critiques. “You’re doing it technically correct, but it lacks your usual musicality.”

 

Victor wants to protest that it’s hard dancing in a body he’s not used to, but he holds his tongue. It’s not like he can explain the situation.

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, because he can tell she’s a good teacher and he doesn’t want to let her down.

 

She waves a hand at him. “Go skate it off, I know you’re itching to.”

 

“Yes m’am.” He takes care to do his cool down stretches despite her giving him a funny look.

 

*

 

He gets lost at least once (try six times) on the way to the rink. It’s not that big of a town, but his sense of direction has never been good, and he doesn’t have an address to punch into Yuuri’s phone.

 

When he finally makes it there, a girl and her surly friend are waiting.

 

“Yuuri-kun, what took you so long!” She practically vibrates in place. “Was Minako-sensei extra harsh today?"

 

“I guess?” Victor shrugs, unwilling to admit that he’d gotten lost.

 

The other boy snorts and turns to go inside the rink. The girl grabs ahold of his hand and drags him along too.

 

“C’mon! The video from Victor’s new competition just went up, so you can start learning it!”

 

An odd feeling creeps over him, but he obligingly follows her to pull his skates on. She whips out her phone and has it shoved in Victor’s face before he has a second to ask questions.

 

And _oh_ , that’s him. The program is from a few seasons ago, so he’s not sure why she’s saying it’s new, but he goes with it. The routine is only a little fuzzy in the back of his mind. He’s done better since then; he doesn’t consider it to be his best work.

 

As the video wraps up he can feel the girl watching him— expectant, like she’s waiting for him to say something.

 

“That was nice, but I think he could have done better on his step sequence?” he tries.

 

It’s weird talking about his own skate like this. When they don’t know that he’s Victor Nikiforov in some Yuuri’s body.

 

_Oh god,_ now both of them are staring at him opened-mouthed. What did he say wrong? Yuuri seems to be a fan of his, but also a skater. Isn’t critique expected?

 

The girl presses the back of her hand to his forehead before he can lean away. “Are you feeling okay, Yuuri-kun?”

 

“Let him be, Yuu-chan,” the other boy complains.

 

“Shut up, Nishigori-kun.”

 

“Let’s skate!” Victor desperately, because everything about this keeps getting weirder and weirder.

 

The ice is the only place where things made sense. Or well, it _should_ be. He forgets that he’s in a different body, and when he accounts for what would normally be his long limbs, he nearly falls flat on his face.

 

Nishigori busts his gut laughing, doubled over and shaking so much he’s in trouble of falling over himself.

 

Victor scowls at him and pushes off. He takes a few warm-up laps to get used to his new dimensions. It’s awkward and he hates it, but he’s not _Victor Nikiforov, skating genius_ for nothing.

 

Once he’s adjusted and warmed up he dives right into the program they just watched. It’s not quite perfect— he forgets one or two elements, which irritates him to no end.

 

His most recent program is fresh in his mind and he’s about to transition directly into it when Yuuko skates over to him.

 

“Yuuri! That was incredible!” she cheers, grabbing him by the shoulders.

 

Nishigori isn’t far behind, one eyebrow raised. “What the fresh hell, Yuuri.”

 

“What?”

 

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone out and skated like that. He’s supposed to be _Yuuri_ or something. If this is a dream it can’t hurt anything, but everything feels a touch too real for Victor to comfortably chalk it up to that.

 

“What do you mean, _what?_ ” Nishigori starts, but Victor is already skating away.

 

They can’t question him if they can’t catch him. Eventually he forgets he’s supposed to be escaping and gets caught up in enjoying himself instead.

 

This body doesn’t tire as easily as his own; Victor feels like he could keep skating forever. Yuuri must be a real menace. It’s only Yuuko’s intervention that gets in his way.

 

“Get going Yuuri, you have class tomorrow! Just because you’re graduating this year doesn’t mean you can slack off,” Yuuko scolds, shooing him out of the rink.

 

_School?_ It’s been a while since Victor has attended formal schooling. He wonders how Yuuri keeps it up and skates at the same time.

 

Regardless, he heeds Yuuko and goes back to the onsen, dodging half the household before collapsing onto the bed. He means to investigate the room further since he’d missed his chance this morning, but exhaustion catches up with him.

 

Victor barely has the presence of mind to leave a note: _Who are you?_

  



	2. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Yuuri chapter! POV's will alternate each chapter for the majority of the fic with one or two exceptions.

_ Some mornings I wake up crying without knowing why… _

 

*

 

_ [St. Petersburg, September 1, 2016] _

 

Yuuri is having a no good, very bad time in a disturbingly realistic dream. 

 

No dream that includes a blaring alarm is ever a good one, not when it announces impending lateness. And  _ boy _ Yuuri is no stranger to having panicky dreams about being late. 

 

So far he isn’t panicking, but it’s probably not far off.

 

The first clue that this is a dream is the eyesight. Yuuri has never had vision this good, not even with his glasses, which limit his peripheral and press too much on his nose. 

 

The second is the dog. Unless someone has been sneaking Vicchan growth hormones behind his back, the brown poodle curled up at his feet is definitely not him. It’s eerily familiar though, and he has no idea why he feels like he knows the dog. 

 

The third is the room. It’s nothing like his own, or any room in the onsen, or perhaps even in Hasetsu as a whole. The walls are sparse and the decoration is very minimalist, nothing like Yuuri’s clutter. 

 

But the  _ real _ cincher of the whole ordeal? Well that would be when he tumbles out of bed to the mirror and lets out a blood-curdling shriek. 

 

He only feels a little bad for spooking the dog because he’s looking at  _ Victor-frickin-Nikiforov in the mirror.  _

 

There’s no question in his mind. He’s spent far too long looking at posters of this face to mistake it for anyone else. 

 

Yuuri lifts a hand to his cheek experimentally, squealing when Victor-in-the-mirror does the same. Something at the back of his neck tickles, and  _ oh, _ that’s the waterfall of silver hair. 

 

Oh god. Oh  _ no _ . He’s Victor Nikiforov.

 

Somehow, his tortured consciousness has conjured up this mess of a dream. Maybe it’s time to ease off the fanboying. 

 

He nearly yelps out loud (again) as something cold bumps his hand. Thankfully, it’s only the poodle seeking attention. 

 

“I guess you’re Makkachin, huh?” he murmurs, scratching the dog gently behind the ears. 

 

Makkachin basks in the attention, tail wagging enthusiastically. What a realistic dream dog. It’s probably because he has so many experiences with Vicchan to draw from. Yep, that’s definitely it. 

 

The bedside phone starts ringing with the most obnoxious ringtone known to man. Yuuri eyes it, wishing he remembered more of his dreams so that he would know whether or not this was normal. 

 

A hush falls over the room for only a brief moment as the caller must hit voicemail, and then the phone is back to making a ruckus again. Whoever it is must be insistent on talking. 

 

Reluctantly Yuuri answers it. “Um, hello?”

 

_ “Vitya! Where the hell are you?”  _

 

Yuuri has to hold the phone away from his ear to keep the angry Russian on the other end from busting his eardrum.

 

“At home?”

 

_ “You’d better get down here right this instant! Just because it’s the off season doesn’t mean you don’t have to practice!” _

 

Wincing, Yuuri starts moving with the phone tucked against his ear. Dream or no dream, he doesn’t think it’s smart to piss off Yakov. 

 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, sorry sir!” he tries to placate Yakov. 

 

“Sir? Since when do you have manners?” Yakov splutters. “Be here in thirty.”

 

For better or for worse, Yakov hangs up before Yuuri can squeeze in any more apologies. Ah, yes,  _ there’s _ the panic. He doesn’t know where anything is, but he hurriedly feeds Makkachin, guesstimating the amount, and takes him out. 

 

Next he himself needs to get dressed.  Imagine his horror when he opens the drawers and finds a whole lot of athletic leggings. The horror only increases when he realizes he needs to dress and perform other bodily functions. 

 

He bypasses the leggings for a pair of black skating pants because  _ god, how did one even wear leggings as pants? _ And why,  _ why _ was his imagination so detailed with every inch of Victor’s body?

 

Yuuri very determinedly does not look as much as possible, which means he’s scrambling to get out the door, skate bag over his shoulder.  

 

He promptly gets lost in St. Petersburg.

 

The city is huge and nothing like Hasetsu. Yuuri doesn’t think he could ask directions if he tried. Don’t you find your way in dreams, regardless? 

 

Turns out the answer to that question is no. 

 

It’s definitely nightmare status when he finally makes it to the rink and is faced with Yakov’s scowl. 

 

“Did you stop to pet a dog and get lost again?” 

 

Yuuri, floored, can only nod dumbly. Yakov pinches the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Go get changed and warmed up,” he grits out, and Yuuri flees before he can change his mind.

 

Yuuri takes calming breaths as he laces up his skates, hunched over on the bench. Maybe, if he pretends like he actually is Victor, this will go a little smoother. 

 

It’s not like he hasn’t read every factoid there is to know about him. And Yuuri has spent years learning to imitate Victor, so it shouldn’t be hard, right?

 

_ Channel your inner Victor, Yuuri. Channel it. _

 

The long legs give him a bit of trouble, but by the time he finishes warm-ups, he feels confident enough. It’s just as well, because Yakov throws him into practicing technical elements as punishment for being late. 

 

He gets yelled at for failing to land a few jumps but puts on his best Victor smile and pushes on. Yuuri is surprised to find that the session is much shorter than he’s used to, and that at the end of it, he’s exhausted. 

 

“Get out of my sight,” Yakov complains when Yuuri tries to insist on practicing a little longer. “Go take that mutt of yours out, and then I want a three-mile run from you and some weight training.”

 

“Yes sir!” Yuuri says, because arguing with Yakov is the last thing he wants to do. 

 

“Have you been body-snatched? Or is this some elaborate way to make fun of me?” Yakov demands. 

 

Yuuri flees without answering. Makkachin is happy to see him, and he takes the poodle on his run with him. 

 

It’s nice to have company. He typically doesn’t take Vicchan when he runs at home, because the toy poodle’s short little legs can’t keep up. Makkachin seems used to the routine, and lopes along happily at his side.

 

The day continues with weight training, and when Yuuri collapses into bed at dusk, he wonders at what an unreasonably long dream this has been. 

 

*

 

_ [Hasetsu, September 2, 2013] _

 

Yuuri groans loudly as he drags himself out of bed to the blaring of his alarm. 

 

It’s a mercy that graduation is rapidly approaching, because balancing his education and skating is difficult to manage. Most aspiring professional athletes would have switched to cyber-schooling by this point, but Yuuri doesn’t want to let his parents down. 

 

They don’t fully understand his skating, but they support him, so this is the least he can do. 

 

“Hurry up, you slug!” Mari yells down the hall. 

 

His elder sister is blessed in that she’s already graduated.  _ Her _ only worry currently is helping their parents run the onsen. Yuuri can’t help but feel guilty; between school and skating he barely has enough time to sleep, much less help out. 

 

“I’m coming!” he yells back. 

 

Vicchan hops down from the bed, tail wagging eagerly. Yuuri drags his shirt on and scoops the pup up, burying his face in Vicchan’s soft fur. 

 

“How’s my good boy this morning?” he coos, Vicchan wriggling happily in his arms. 

 

The bedroom door swings open and Mari sticks her head in, nose scrunched. “What, you’re finally feeling back to normal?”

 

Yuuri looks up questioningly. “Huh?” 

 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you were acting weird yesterday.” 

 

Yuuri doesn’t recall doing any such thing but arguing with Mari will make him late to school. He dumps his school stuff into his backpack and swings it over his shoulder.

 

“Ooookay. Well I’m going to go now. Give Vicchan love while I’m gone!” 

 

Mari snorts and pushes him out the door. “Your dog, your responsibility.”

 

Yuuri waves over his shoulder at her as he hustles out the door. Mari has a soft spot for Vicchan and coddles him during the day when Yuuri is gone and she thinks no one is paying attention. 

 

He’s glad. He’s gone far too often, especially for competitions, and Vicchan deserves better than that.

 

*

 

“Yuuri-kun!” Yuuko chirps as he plops down on the bench to put his skates on. “Do you want to try Victor’s new short program again today?” 

 

Yuuri blinks at her. “But I haven’t seen it yet?”

 

“What do you mean? We watched it yesterday! You even said that Victor’s step sequence could be better,” Yuuko protests. “And then you skated it nearly perfectly.” 

 

He nearly falls right off the bench. “I  _ WHAT? _ ”

 

She frowns at him, brows pinching together in a way that’s normally pretty cute. “Are you feeling okay Yuuri? You acted pretty strange yesterday.” 

 

Yuuko stretches a hand out to check his forehead. Yuuri leans away, stomach churning. 

 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but I need to practice. I’m meeting with my coach this weekend,” he says shakily. 

 

There’s a moment where he thinks Yuuko is going to push on what is quickly becoming a sensitive topic. Yuuri can’t stop to worry about whatever is going on; he has a whole new program to learn. 

 

Celestino Cialdini has scouted him, yes, but if he wants to cinch that offer, he needs to continue skating well. Detroit is the opportunity of a lifetime and Yuuri can’t let it slip away. 

 

Because she’s known him for so long, Yuuko graciously lets it go. For the moment anyway. She’ll revisit at a later date. 

 

Yuuri isn’t one to waste a freebie. He makes his escape to the ice before any more questions can be asked. He has too many things to practice and not enough time before he has to get his homework done. 

 

Something he yelled weeks ago in a fit of frustration late one night, rises out the fuzziness in his mind as he skates figures. 

 

_ Please make me an amazing skater in my next life! _

 

*

 

When he opens his notebook, squinting in the low light of the lamp, he finds a note scrawled neatly on a blank page. 

 

“Huh?” he huffs, leaning in. 

 

It’s in English, which is strange because he only ever takes notes in his second language for that class. And this is his maths notebook… 

 

_ Who are you? _

 

Yuuri slams the notebook shut and leans away from the desk. Who…?

 

It’s almost a full ten minutes before he has the courage to write back on the inside of his arm, in striking black, ‘Who am I? Who are you?!?’

  
  



	3. Victor

_ [St. Petersburg, September 2, 2016] _

 

“Vitya! Glad you could make it here without getting lost,” Yakov greets him, gruff as always. 

 

Across the rink, Georgi stifles a laugh. 

 

Despite having no idea what they’re talking about, Victor tilts his head and smiles. 

 

“Oh, Yakov. It’s cute that you think I take your schedules as anything more than suggestions.” 

 

Georgi’s eyes widen and he eases back a few steps in anticipation of what should be a classic Yakov explosion. Both he and Victor are disappointed, however, when Yakov just snorts. 

 

“There’s the attitude. I was convinced you’d had a personality transplant yesterday.” 

 

Victor blinks and opens his mouth, because he certainly has been very much in character, but Yakov grins wickedly. 

 

“All the same, I expect an extra set of reps on your weight circuit, and four miles instead of three, since you’re feeling cheeky.” 

 

“Yakovvvvv,” he whines, but his coach isn’t budging. 

 

“If you have the energy to be a shit, then you certainly can put it toward your fitness,” Yakov says firmly. “Now, I want to see a run through of your programs without music.” 

 

Antagonizing his coach further would not be a good choice, so Victor shuts his mouth and takes to the ice. For all his flippancy, he’s serious about skating, and the Grand Prix is rapidly approaching. 

 

Selections were announced at the end of June, and Victor has Skate America and the NHK Trophy this year. It’s disappointing to not be able to skate in Rostelecom, but there would be other years. Victor has no intentions of retiring any time soon. 

 

Skating is the only thing he has that matters. 

 

“Fix your posture!” Yakov barks across the ice in the middle of Victor’s Ina Bauer. 

 

Victor grits his teeth and pulls it together. Yakov is going to lecture him about his performance scores again today, he can feel it. 

 

Sure enough, Yakov leans against the boards. “Where is the fluidity you had yesterday?” 

 

Frustration is growing in a deep, ugly corner that Victor likes to pretend doesn’t exist. He doesn’t remember any special new skating style, so he skates as he always does. It’s good, and it’s been good enough for years. 

 

Yakov is just going to have to live with it. 

 

He’s panting by the time Yakov calls him off the ice, a familiar pinched frown on his face. 

 

“Take your lunch, and then do the normal cycle of reps. I still want the extra mile though.” 

 

Victor grins at him. “I’ll consider it.” 

 

Yakov grumbles under his breath but doesn’t press the issue. For all Victor pushes and tests and often doesn’t listen, Yakov knows that he’ll do what’s best for his skating. If that’s an extra mile added onto his run, he’ll do it. 

 

If nothing else, Victor is dedicated to the ice. 

 

*

 

Victor does his investigating over lunch, far from Yakov’s prying ears. Georgi is not always a pleasant lunch companion — he often likes to regal his unwilling conversational partners with tales of his love or heartbreak— but he’s chatty and definitely willing to dish on gossip. 

 

“What’s the big deal about yesterday?” Victor asks, feigning disinterest as he scrolls his instagram. 

 

The majority of the pictures are either poodle accounts or other skaters. He double taps Christophe’s latest post and keeps swiping. The familiar glint of blue on his dominant hand is reassuring, and he admires his makeshift ring while he waits on Georgi. 

 

“It was super weird. You looked like you thought Yakov might bite you,” Georgi confides, picking at his sadly healthy lunch. 

 

Victor throws his head back and laughs. “Absolutely not!”

 

Victor hasn’t been afraid of Yakov since he was smaller than Yakov’s newest junior skater, a little blond pipsqueak. The kid is so tiny Victor could probably lift him over his head with one hand. 

 

Georgi, characteristically stern, waves his fork around with feeling. “But you did! I didn’t even know you could make such a face!” 

 

Victor leans back in his chair and pouts. “What’s that supposed to mean? I can make all sorts of expressions.” 

 

There isn’t much sympathy to be found with Georgi, who shrugs in disagreement. The urge to frown grows, so Victor smiles instead out of spite.

 

It’s odd though. 

 

Victor is a forgetful person. It’s trait he’s been forced to accept about himself, and he structures his life around it. 

 

Reminders on his phone, sticky notes around the apartment, journals full of scribbled notes on potential choreography— if he doesn’t get it down on paper before he gets out on the ice, it leaves his head, never to be seen again. 

 

But forgetting a whole day? And one where he was acting strange? That doesn’t fit him. 

 

He fusses with his hair to disguise his fretfulness, piling it up on his head in a messy bun until he can get it just so. 

 

Georgi finishes his lunch and flees before Victor’s done. He thinks Victor’s infatuation with his hair is silly, but it’s something that Victor can control. It’s soothing, being able to sit and comb through it, or watch countless YouTube videos on how to braid it back from his face. 

 

Even if he gets spurned frequently for being too feminine, it’s become part of his identity. 

 

Victor sighs and drops his forehead down on the table, bun wobbling. He needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

 

His phone buzzes quietly next to him on the table, and an idea strikes him. 

 

He keeps track of everything else in his life with notes and reminders. Maybe keeping a journal would help solve things. 

 

It takes only a few minutes to find and download an appealing journal app so that it sits front and center on his home screen. Victor is almost late to his afternoon session because he gets distracted typing about his day. 

 

This should definitely do the trick. 

 

_ [Hasetsu, September 5, 2013] _

 

Again, huh?

 

This is at least the third time he’s woken up as Yuuri. 

 

Victor stretches luxuriously before reaching to the foot of the bed to give Vicchan a fond head scratch. He’s never had much trouble believing in the mystical; life is boring if you don’t account for a bit of magic. 

 

It’s clear, now, that the universe has decided to deal him a touch of it. 

 

He might be wrong, but he thinks maybe he’s been switching bodies with Yuuri. It would explain why he’s been losing entire days at a time, and he can confirm it by tracking his progress in the journal on his phone. 

 

Maybe Yuuri could use a journal app too. 

 

Yuuri’s phone is by the bedside, and as Victor reaches for it, he catches sight of faded writing on the inside of his arm. He squints at it, grateful for the fact that whatever mystical powers are messing with them were thoughtful enough to allow him to read and speak Japanese when he’s Yuuri. This is in English, however, which amuses him. 

 

‘Who am I? Who are you?!?’ it reads, and Victor can’t help but chuckle. He slides out of bed and digs a marker out of one of the desk drawers.

 

His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he writes back with careful, deliberate strokes: ‘Victor Nikiforov. And you’re Yuuri?’ 

 

Victor adds a smiley face for good measure and then caps the marker, satisfied with his handiwork.  

 

He snatches up the phone and is relieved to see there’s still fifteen minutes before Mari busts the door open and forces him off to today’s activities. School, maybe? 

 

Victor is definitely going to need to be on his toes if it’s a school day. It’s been years since he abandoned his own education, but he doesn’t want to screw things up for Yuuri. 

 

They don’t really know each other yet, but Yuuri is a dog person, and even better, a poodle person. That alone makes Victor want to get to know him better. 

 

“Okay!” he says to himself, clapping his hands together. “Journal time!”

 

_ * _

 

_           {New Entry - September 5} _

 

_           Hi! I’m Victor Nikiforov, in case you didn’t get that already :))))) I think we’re switching _

_           bodies? I should probably be worried, but you’re a skater too, so it’s okay!  _

 

_           I started a journal on my phone to figure out what was happening to the days I couldn’t _

_           remember, so I thought you might like to do it also. If I take notes on my days as you, and _

_           you take notes when you’re me, we can figure things out!  _

 

_           Anyway, I think today is a school day. It’s been a while since I’ve gone to school, but I’ll _

_           do my best. If you wrote down your schedule, that would be very helpful! Mostly I just go _

_           wherever Mari yells at me to go lol (:  _

 

_           Your family is very nice, and so are Yuuko and Nishigori! Minako-sensei scares me a bit _

_           though. She’s a very talented danseur, I think even Yakov’s ex-wife Lilia would be _

_           impressed! I almost couldn’t keep up with her. You must be a very good dancer :) _

 

_           I love Vicchan! He’s adorable and he reminds me a lot of my Makkachin.  _

 

_           You skate in competitions, don’t you? Would you tell me about your skating? _

 

_           -V :D _

 

Mari whips the door open before he can continue. She seems surprised to find him alert and sitting up. 

 

“Huh. Well get ready for school, Yuuri. Skate season kicks into full swing soon, so you can’t afford to get behind.” 

 

“Yes!” Victor says excitedly, scrambling out of bed. 

 

So Yuuri  _ does _ compete! Vicchan, ever loyal, jumps down from the bed as well. Mari bemusedly shakes her head at the both of them. 

 

“I don’t know when you became a morning person, but it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies,” she snorts, and yanks the door shut behind her. 

 

Yuuri isn’t a morning person? Victor is curious about all the small details he’s learning. It makes him wish he could write them all down, but he can’t very well do that in Yuuri’s own phone. He’ll just have to try hard to remember. 

 

If Yuuri is a competitive skater, then maybe they’ll meet on the circuit too. Victor likes the idea of befriending someone other than Christophe. Not that he doesn’t love the Swiss skater, because he does, but Yuuri seems like a very different type of person. Victor thinks they’d get along splendidly. 

 

Victor looks forward to spending the evening at the rink with Yuuko and Nishigori. They’re the kind of friends he’s wished for but never seemed able to find. Fans come easily to him; meaningful friends do not. 

 

Yuuri is so very lucky to have the people that surround him. 

  
  



	4. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, just a heads up that this is the chapter the panic attack tag pertains to. It's brief and not graphic, but just to be on the safe side, if you'd like to skip it, it's between "Just how is he supposed.." and "Switching bodies with Victor.." 
> 
> Happy and safe reading!

_[Hasetsu, September 6, 2013]_

 

When Yuuri forces himself into a fuzzy semblance of consciousness, it takes him half of his morning routine to realize that there’s an answer written back on his arm.

 

His eyes pass over it once, then twice.  He _has_ to be seeing things.

 

A shriek rips from  his throat unbidden, startling Vicchan into tumbling off the bed, and Mari comes running.

 

Yuuri barely has time hide his inked arm before she shoves the door open.

 

“Yuuri, what the hell!” she gasps, taking in Vicchan’s pitiful look and Yuuri’s clear panic.

 

“I—” he chokes. There’s absolutely no air in his lungs.

 

And then he realizes there’s nothing he can tell her. If Yuuri is a reluctant believer in small magics, then Mari is the biggest skeptic. He forces a breath, though his mind whirs at speeds unknown to man.

 

“Sorry, Mari-neechan. I scared myself,” he finally says, ducking his head.

 

If he looks up, he’s certain he’ll find her scowling at him.

 

“Yuu-chan,” she says firmly, and it’s the diminutive that forces his head up. Mari stopped calling him that when he got to middle school, and only rarely uses it now.

 

In spite of his worries, she’s not scowling. There’s a pinch in her brow that indicates she’s concerned, and Yuuri instantly feels bad about putting it there.

 

“It’s obvious that something is bothering you. When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here.”

 

Because she’s his sister, she knows that this is a time to give him space. She leaves it at that.

 

Yuuri waits until her footsteps fade before he collapses onto his bed and yanks the covers over his head. It’s tempting to shove his face into a pillow and screech some more, but he doesn’t want Mari coming back.

 

Besides, this can’t be real. Victor Nikiforov did _not_ write back on his arm.

 

That would be stupid, and impossible, but Yuuri still doesn’t have any sort of explanation for how the writing got there. He’s not a sleep-walker, and he’s never coherent enough once he’s fallen asleep to write that neatly.

 

The whole thing makes him want to hyperventilate and hide in his room the rest of the day, but unfortunately school is still a thing.

 

Yuuri drags himself out of bed, dressing and stuffing his phone in his pocket without even checking his notifications.

 

Anything other than school he can deal with later, when he has the freedom to break down somewhere quiet.

 

*

 

Yuuri is desperately glad he didn’t have the opportunity to check his phone all day, because otherwise he’d be doing this at school instead of in the Ice Castle’s bathrooms.

 

And this, well… this is a side step away from a panic attack.

 

He’d opened his phone to answer a text from Minako about their session tomorrow only to find that the journal app had been left open.

 

Yuuri had downloaded the app months ago and promptly forgot about it.

 

Upon opening it, he’d been confronted with an entry he definitely didn’t write.

 

_‘I think we’re switching bodies…’_

 

Just how is he supposed to take the fact that he’s switching bodies with Victor Nikiforov?

 

Panic rises like a wave in his chest, closing his throat and making the world blurry. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and experience tells him that he needs to slow his breathing down before this becomes a full-blown attack.

 

Bracing his hand against the counter, he forces himself to take deep, slow breaths as he counts backwards from ten in cycles. The fog recedes slowly, but at least he’s no longer on the verge of splitting open.

 

Switching bodies with Victor Nikiforov? It’s a cosmic joke.

 

Plain, unimportant Yuuri and the rising prince of ice skating? Victor must think that Yuuri’s humble life is embarrassing. Yuuri _feels_ embarrassed, thinking about Victor skating at Ice Castle Hasetsu, sleeping in his bed….

 

_Oh god, the posters!_

 

Yuuri’s breathing picks up, but he doesn’t have the chance to spiral again because Nishigori comes tramping through the door.

 

“Yuu-chan is getting worried,” is all he says, steady eyes on Yuuri.

 

Nishigori is like that: an even keel to Yuuko’s excitableness. It’s odd to think that there’d been a time when they weren’t friends.

 

“S-sorry, I got distracted.”

 

It’s not very convincing, but Nishigori mercifully lets it go, shrugging as he turns for the door.

 

“We’re always here, if you want to talk to us,” he tosses over his shoulder.

 

The intention was for the offer to be casual, and Yuuri appreciates it. His friends have learned that he tends to crumble when questioned directly and have found other ways to lend their support.

 

Yuuri gives it a full two minutes from when the door closes behind Nishigori before he goes for his skates. As he settles on one of the benches to lace them up, he listens to whatever new pop music Yuuko has playing over the speakers.

 

He rather likes it, but the moment his blades touch the ice, it becomes white noise.

 

His mind quiets down when he’s on the ice. Competitions are a different story, but when he’s allowed to let loose without hordes of eyes watching and waiting for him to fail, Yuuri finds peace.

 

Yuuko and Nishigori are practiced at staying out of his way on nights like tonight, giving him free reign over the ice. Neither of them skate competitively anymore, but both love it too much to give it up.

 

The rink itself belongs to Yuuko’s family. While Yuuri finishes high school, Yuuko, who’s two years his senior, takes business classes and teaches skating to kids on the weekends.

 

Yuuri has a feeling that the day is quickly approaching when her parents will pass the rink on to her.

 

It’s weird to think that they’re going to be adults now, with Yuuri potentially moving to Detroit to train and the other two taking on real jobs.

 

The thought is bittersweet, but it’s a needed distraction from his crisis with Victor.

 

Yuuri propels himself through his brutal training regime with unshakeable focus. He’s not so naturally gifted a skater as Victor is. Every jump he has to fight tooth and nail for, eked out from protesting muscles.

 

Step sequences are borne of hundreds of hours in the dance studio bent to Minako’s iron will. Blood, sweat, and countless tears poured out, year after year, all for _this_. All for the moments when he feels so alive that he can barely stand it.

 

When his legs are wobbling beneath him, he slows until he’s just barely gliding across the ice. Yuuko and Nishigori have stepped out; it’s just Yuuri under the lights, long past sunset.

 

The soft glow of the overheads reflect back— brilliant orbs beneath that ache to look at.

 

Homework and the Victor dilemma await him the moment he takes his skates off, but he’s more at peace with that.

 

If they’re switching bodies, Yuuri won’t actually have to talk to or see Victor. Their only method of communication is notes.

 

That’s… doable. Yuuri still feels nauseous about it, but it’s out of his control. The only bright side is that maybe he’ll get to learn more about his idol, if at the cost of his own privacy.

 

It’s the mantra he keeps chanting to himself when he sits in his bed, trying to come up with what he’s going to write back in the journal.

 

_{New Entry - September 6}_

 

_Um. Hi. I’m Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri. I’m Japanese, so the surname comes first. Using given_

_names is very personal, but I guess you can call me Yuuri since we’re, um, swapping into_

_each other’s bodies? That seems highly personal. I’m rambling, sorry._

 

_Yes, I am also a skater, but I’m a dime a dozen, not anywhere near as good as you. I want_

_to be someday though. There’s really not much to say. I’m nothing special. I’m only half_

_decent because I spend more time skating than I do anything else._

 

_My school schedule is in my planner, but I’ll leave my training packet out for you. I_

_would much appreciate it if you could stick to it. I’ll be in trouble if I miss too many days._

_Yuuko will show you what my current programs are if you ask her. They’re nothing out of_

_this world but I think I like them._

 

_The season starts soon, so if you leave your training regimens and programs in your_

_phone, I’ll follow them for you. Also, Yakov scares me. Like a lot. But Makkachin makes_

_up for it. He’s a good companion on runs. Vicchan’s legs are too short for him to keep up_

_with me._

 

_If you ever need any help, ask Mari._

 

_-Y_

 

It’s surprisingly less intimidating to do it like this. There’s no chance for him to stumble over his words, and he doesn’t have to see Victor’s reaction when he reads it. Victor will surely be disappointed to know that he’s living one half of his currently double life as a mediocre skater.

 

Yuuri reads and rereads the note, Vicchan tucked under his arm, until his eyes hurt and he finally concedes to sleep.

 

_[St. Petersburg, Late September 2016]_

 

It’s weird to be in Victor’s body knowing that this isn’t a dream. Victor’s daily life is rather surreal to him, because it’s nothing but skating and Makkachin.

 

Yuuri is used to juggling responsibilities, but on days when he’s Victor, all he does is skate and train.

 

From dawn until dusk, he doesn’t think of anything beyond the ice. It’s a breather from his own hectic life— when Yakov isn’t yelling at him.

 

Which, more often than not, he is. The only solace is that from what Yuuri’s gleaned from interviews and watching competitions on TV, Yakov is always yelling at Victor too. It seems to be his resting state.

 

Yuuri doesn’t quite know what to make of Georgi. He keeps his distance, and Yuuri gets the uncomfortable feeling that Georgi feels vindicated when Yuuri messes up or falls.

 

The rest of Yakov’s skaters are less standoffish, though their friendliness is only surface deep. It’s strange, but Yuuri doesn’t have the time to puzzle over it because Victor’s programs are like nothing else he’s ever known.

 

While he’s used to learning Victor’s programs on his own time, he’s never tried to hold himself to Victor’s standard. Usually he downgrades the jumps and spends more time on the choreography, where he lets his step sequences win him back points.

 

But right now he _is_ Victor, and if he doesn’t meet Victor’s standards, Yakov will have his head. The first event of the Grand Prix series will be on them soon, and Yuuri feels the pressure to know Victor’s programs on top of his own.

 

It doesn’t help that Victor’s free skate in particular is leagues beyond what last year’s skate was.

 

Yuuri can’t explain it, but it’s almost as if Victor has advanced three years’ worth of learning in just one.

 

The programs are so technical, seeking to surprise and awe, that Yuuri’s head spins when he thinks too hard on them. Victor is what the Japanese like to call a monster: a genius athlete who knows no limits.

 

It’s scary to be in these boots. At the rate Victor’s been trending upward, it feels like burning out is an eventuality, rather than a possibility.

 

There’s room to rise— for now. Yuuri knows that Victor wants nothing less than gold, but how long until he reaches the ceiling?

 

_{New Entry – September 2016}_

 

_Yuuuurriiii! We should get to know each other better! What is your favorite color?_

_Favorite season? Biggest inspiration?_

 

_Yuuri why won’t you answer my questions?_

 

_Do you have a girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend?My first girlfriend was…_

 

_\---Rest of entry deleted---_

  


*

  


The hair is a problem.

 

In theory, Yuuri loves it. It’s beautiful and soft and looks like a river of silver when tended properly.

 

Tending it properly is the issue. Yuuri’s hair has been short most of his life, and it’s far thicker than Victor’s fine strands. Victor’s hair gets in his mouth, gets caught on random objects, and in one notable instance, he almost blinded himself with it.

 

Yuuri watches YouTube videos before bed, both as Victor and as himself, trying to figure out how to manage it.

 

It takes him three times swapping as Victor to manage a simple three strand braid, which barely contains it. Messy buns don’t work well either because there’s too much hair, and it’s too heavy to support unless he piles it all on the top of his head.

 

While that’s an acceptable look around the house, Yuuri can’t imagine Victor looking less than put together in public. It’s a headache.

 

Victor isn’t very good at buying groceries either. From what Yuuri’s found browsing the cabinets, he’s not much of a cook at all. Yuuri, whose mother taught him everything he knows about cooking, feels a justifiable amount of despair at the lack of spices in the apartment.

 

Their diets as professional athletes are strict as it is, and without spices to counteract that… Yuuri shudders.

 

“We’re going to fix this, Makkachin,” he tells the dog very seriously, pulling up the journal app.

 

His entries up until now have been fairly impersonal and almost exclusively about skating, much to Victor’s dismay. It’s easier for Yuuri to keep his distance, to not get attached to someone he can’t have.

 

But this… this bears fixing. Victor’s life is distinctly lacking spice, and Yuuri is a man on a mission.

 

He may also be just a touch frustrated.

 

_{New Entry - September 1X}_

 

_Help! How do you do your hair? I can’t get it to do what I want and Yakov keeps_

_threatening to chop it off if I don’t stop whipping myself in the face with it. Your insanely_

_detailed shampoo and conditioner routine does not help with styling. At all._

 

_WHO NEEDS THIS MUCH HAIR?_

 

_Can you leave cash or the pin for your card? There isn’t always food in the apartment,_

_and I’d like to be able to cook. (And get Makkachin treats because he’s a good boy. And_

_on that note, please stop overfeeding Vicchan! He’s a third of Makkachin’s size and he’s_

_getting fat!)_

 

_And finally… we need a laundry schedule or something. There was only one pair of_

_normal joggers left. I don’t know how to wear leggings, Victor! Yuuko complains all the_

_time about not having panty lines show, what does that even mean?_

 

_Please, please do the laundry._

 

_The breakdown of today’s skate is below. I’m torn between admiring and being mad at_

_you, because your programs are way above my level and Yakov is easily frustrated. But_

_they’re also beautiful._

 

_-Y_

  
  



	5. Victor

 

_ [St. Petersburg, Late September 2016] _

 

Victor is pleased that Yuuri is finally warming up to him. His latest journal entries have finally deviated from his usual, very boring skating notes. 

 

Practically humming to himself, Victor links some of his favorite hair tutorial videos for Yuuri as well as adding his own tips. Leaving the pin number for his credit card in the journal isn’t a big deal either; he trusts Yuuri. 

 

Mutual destruction would be ensured should one of them should act out, but Yuuri wouldn’t do that. Based on the way the people close to him act, Yuuri is as good a person as Victor has ever known. 

 

Victor of course still hasn’t met the man in person, but he’s okay with that. 

 

Googling Yuuri feels forbidden, like he might break whatever spell they’re under. Yuuri is a ranked Japanese skater at nearly eighteen, and surely has a Wikipedia page, but Victor holds himself back out of fear. 

 

He’s grown fond of Yuuri, and should they stop switching suddenly, he’d be heartbroken. 

 

The thought lingers as he putters through his kitchen, poking curiously at the groceries Yuuri has started putting in his cupboards. Victor is not an accomplished cook; he doesn’t know what half the things are.

 

Well, other than the tea. He suspects that Yuuri would be horrified to find out that Russians like to add jam to their tea. 

 

There are leftovers neatly stored in the fridge that Victor gleefully digs into as a late lunch, standing at his kitchen counter in his socks. Makkachin tries to wheedle handouts from him, pressing his nose pitifully into Victor’s thigh. 

 

“Table food is not good for doggies,” Victor says apologetically to him to him. His voice creeps into the high, indulgent tone that only Makkachin brings out of him. “And you already had yours.” 

 

Makkachin makes huge, sad eyes at him, but he holds firm. His dog has a penchant for eating things he’s not supposed to, and every single time it has ended badly. Victor is not about to risk it. 

 

Makkachin is the one creature in his life that loves him unconditionally. No matter what happens on the ice, he knows that he can come home to his dog. 

 

It’s a comfort he’ll go to extremes to preserve. When he travels outside of Russia, Makkachin gets a professional sitter, and he has one of the doggy cams set so that he can video call whenever he feels the need. 

  
Yakov is adept at handling him, but nothing can cheer Victor up better than Makkachin’s kind face. 

 

“You like Yuuri, don’t you?” he hums to the pup, who has finally given up trying to beg for food. 

 

It earns him a curious look and a head tilt. 

 

“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Victor sings, appreciating the way the name rolls off his tongue. “Shall we see what notes Yuuri has left us from skating?”

 

He’s grown to look forward Yuuri’s entries, and the respectful but still present sass he interjects in them. It makes him feel more real, more accessible to Victor.

 

Makkachin boofs and follows him to the couch, clambering into his lap like he’s a lap dog and not a sixty-pound poodle. Victor lets him do it anyway, pressing his nose into the fur on top of Makkachin’s head. He whirls the woven cord around his finger absentmindedly, twisting it this way and that in a manner that has become habit. 

 

Yuuri is thorough in his notes. So thorough, in fact, that Victor worries he exhausts himself doing it. He feels a little bad that Yuuri has to skate his programs. 

 

From what he understands, Yuuri is a good skater, though lacking confidence. Victor’s programs, however, are constantly pushing the envelope. He likes a challenge— likes to surprise and shock his audience. 

 

He suspects Yuuri’s approach is very different. Does he feel uncomfortable, pressured to meet the same standards as Victor? 

 

Victor has been doing this for quite a while now, long enough that he’s adjusted to the persistent weight of Yakov and the world’s expectations. Sometimes, though, he still feels it acutely in fleeting moments when it seems like the earth is going to open up and swallow him. 

 

Sometimes, he wishes it would. 

 

He’s nearly finished reading through Yuuri’s notes when an incoming call takes over his screen. There’s a long pause where he just stares, wondering if he can get away with ignoring Yakov. 

  
Probably not. 

 

Resigned, he presses accept and chirps, “Hello Yakov,” into the phone. 

 

“Vitya, were you planning on showing up for that extra ice time you scheduled, or not, you foolish boy?” 

 

Extra ice time? He hadn’t scheduled any, but he puts Yakov on speaker and flips back over to the journal app. Sure enough, at the bottom of the entry he hadn’t finished, there’s a mention from Yuuri about scheduling ice time. 

 

Yuuri had probably intended to use it during a switch, but since they can never predict it… looks like Victor is going to get some extra skating in tonight. 

 

“I’ll be there soon!” he tells Yakov and drags himself off the couch. 

 

He wants to be grumpy about it, but Yuuri’s dedication to keeping up with Victor’s life is an inspiration. 

 

“Oh, Yakov, will you film my routines for me tonight?” he asks before the older man can hang up.

 

“Not if you’re going to put them on the internet,” Yakov growls. 

 

“No no! They’re so I can study them and see where to improve,” Victor promises. 

 

Yakov is satisfied with that and hangs up the phone without another word. Victor changes and snags his skate bag off the hook, stooping to kiss the top of Makkachin’s head as he goes. 

 

“Be good, we’ll go for a long walk tonight,” he sighs, and steps out into the rapidly cooling September air. 

 

_  [Hasetsu, End of September 2013] _

 

Victor can’t decide whether or not he likes Japanese high school, or high school in general. It’s a weird experience to be thrown back in with the teenagers at twenty-two. They’re both predictable and not, more intimidating than Yakov on his best days. 

 

Skaters can be as catty and cliquey as high schoolers, so at least he’s prepared on that front. 

 

Yuuri doesn’t interact much with his classmates, which is something Victor realized very quickly when he tried to be social. He’d gotten stared at, and since then, he’s kept his head down. 

 

Yuuko and Nishigori have already graduated, much to his disappointment. He’d thought he’d at least have two friendly faces to keep him company. 

 

The tests and quizzes are… slightly problematic, but Yuuri’s good grades balance out wherever Victor slips. He feels terrible about it, but he never even took high school chemistry, so he’s at a loss. 

 

He diligently takes notes to compensate and finds himself brushing up on concepts in his free time to avoid tanking quizzes. 

 

It’s the least he can do, he feels. 

 

One lecture in particular catches his attention. It’s a language class, breaking down the origins of the word ‘twilight.’ The lecturer is a young woman with brown hair, who smiles as she turns from the board. 

 

“As you know, the origin of the word twilight is ‘two-light,’ indicating the presence of both the sun and the moon.”

 

One of the kids in the back of the classroom throws his hand up. “Isn’t it also called witching hour?”

 

The teacher smiles indulgently. “Witching hour and magic hour are also common names for this time of day, yes.” 

 

Victor presses his cheek into his palm. Magic hour sounds more romantic than even twilight, as if the world were more open to mystical things in that fleeting bit of time. 

 

He’d rather like to experience a true ‘magic hour.’

 

Being able to escape to the ice is a relief at the end of the day. Victor is always mentally drained by that point, but his body knows the ice better than anything else. The ballet studio is nice too, even if he isn’t as accomplished a dancer as Yuuri.

 

And at the end of it all, the cozy warmth of the onsen awaits. More often than not the television in the main room is on, providing background noise for Victor’s stretches. 

 

Recently he’s caught more than a few snippets about a comet on the late-night news. It’s of no consequence to him. Humanity may be obsessed with space, but Victor is obsessed with skating. 

 

*

 

By now, Victor’s met a few times with Yuuri’s coach, who splits time with Minako-sensei. Personally he thinks Minako is much more capable, but he keeps his mouth shut. 

 

They’re wrapping up a Saturday afternoon session when Victor is gifted with a new nugget of information. 

 

“And Katsuki-kun,” his coach says, wrapping up a lecture that Victor only listened to for Yuuri’s sake. “Celestino Cialdini already wants you, you just have to keep up the good work.” 

 

Victor is glad Yakov doesn’t often resort to pep talks, because if he ever gave one this lame, Victor might throw his skate guards. 

 

Wait. Celestino? 

 

He bobs his head gamely so that the coach thinks he’s listening, but his mind is busy trying to connect the dots. Victor pays enough attention to the skating world to be in the know; it helps to know your competition and what’s in their arsenal. 

  
Celestino Cialdini is a well-respected Italian skating coach currently based in Detroit. Victor has seen him rink-side, easily spotted by his long hair. 

 

The hair is, admittedly, part of the reason he made it onto Victor’s radar. As much flack as he catches for his own hair being long, it’s nice to see another man in the skating world going against the norm. 

 

“Katsuki-kun?” the coach prompts, voice unusually soft. 

 

Victor snaps back to attention. “Yes?”

 

He’s not used to being coddled. Yakov was gentler with him when he was younger, sure, but now that he’s an adult, he’s grown used to Yakov being brutally honest with him. The kid gloves only come out when Victor hits a particularly low point. 

 

“Moving to Detroit might be scary but, Katsuki-kun, this is the best possible move for your career.” 

 

Victor lets the silence hang for a moment. “I know.” 

 

The coach’s face pinches into a frown, but he leaves it at that. “Think about it. I’ll see you on Thursday, and we’ll do one last run through before the local circuit starts.” 

 

Another nod in answer, and Victor is mercifully through with the man for the evening. Minako, despite being a danseur instead of a skater, is a much better instructor. 

 

It seems like Yuuri is hesitating to go to Detroit, and Victor can’t fathom why. He chews on it the whole way back to the onsen, and then on his evening walk with Vicchan as well. 

 

Mari’s sharp eyes follow him all the way through dinner, and she corners him in the hall on the way to bed. 

 

“What’s on your mind?”

 

Victor, unused to having a confidant, hesitates only a moment before blurting honestly, “Detroit.” 

 

Clicking her tongue, Mari pushes him down the hall to Yuuri’s room and closes the door behind them. 

 

Befuddled, Victor sits down on the edge of the bed and gazes up at Mari. It must be nice, having a protective older sibling. 

 

“What are you so worried about?” she asks bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest. 

 

“Um?” Victor hedges because he doesn’t know what’s holding Yuuri back. 

 

Maybe it’s the distance? Moving half the world away from your family can’t be easy. 

 

Mari sighs, dragging a hand through her hair to pull it back from her face. “If you’re worried about mom and dad running the onsen, then don’t. I’m going to be here to help them, and we can manage.” 

 

She squints at him, brows drawing together. “And if this is about your anxiety… Yuuri, I don’t have to be a professional to know that you’re a good skater. You’re good enough to go to Detroit and become even better.” 

 

Victor swallows hard. This isn’t meant for him, but he can’t help but feel emotional about it anyway. 

 

“We love you, and we’ll support you in all your endeavors.” Mari’s mouth quirks up. “I’ll even look after your mutt while you’re away at American college.” 

 

Tears prick at the corners of his eyes even though he has no right to cry. What would it be like, to have a family like this? Yuuri is so immeasurably lucky. 

 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and Mari just chuckles. 

 

“You’re welcome, kid. Now do your homework or something.” 

 

_ Or something _ is more what he does. After Mari leaves he roots around Yuuri’s desk, then his email inbox, until he finds what he’s looking for. The exchanges between Yuuri and Celestino are professional if not painfully polite. 

 

There’s an email from Celestino from two days ago that Yuuri hasn’t answered yet that Victor does him the favor of responding to. 

 

He doesn’t formally commit to anything—  even  _ he’s _ not that presumptuous— but he does indicate that Yuuri is definitely still interested. 

 

If Yuuri kills him for this…well… it was for a good cause. 

 

Victor’s last hour of wakefulness is spent typing up his journal entry for Yuuri. The first bit simply relays all the nonsense the coach had been spouting, but the rest is more personal. 

 

He can only hope that he gets Mari’s message across. 

  
  


_ {New Entry – September} _

 

_ Yuuri, why didn’t you tell me you got offered to work with Celestino Cialdini?!?! He’s a _

_ good coach, especially for seniors looking to win internationally! (His hair is also great).  _

 

_ This is definitely not an opportunity you want to turn down. I answered that email you _

_ were procrastinating and told him you were still interested. Don’t be mad. Mari says that _

_ if you want to go to Detroit, you should do it.  _

 

_ I’m sorry I’m the middle man here, but she and your family support you, and want you to _

_ follow your dreams.  _

 

_ I think you could be incredible, and Detroit is your next step towards that.  _

 

_ Go and be great, Yuuri!  _

 

_ -V :) _

  
  



	6. Yuuri

_ [St. Petersburg, Early October 2016] _

 

Yuuri is going to kill Victor. 

 

It’s not a thought he’d ever anticipated crossing his mind, but  _ oh boy _ is it there now. Yuuri is a private person. He doesn’t like when people get their noses in his business, and there are very few exceptions to this rule. 

 

Childhood (and let’s be honest, current) idol or not, he’s not going to stand for this. 

 

He stews on it throughout the day. It must show on his face, because only Makkachin seeks attention from him. Usually at least one fan will stop him in the street; today they let him be. 

 

That’s probably wise. Yuuri isn’t particularly interested in playing nice as Victor today. Of all the traits he anticipated learning about Victor, his nosiness wasn’t one of them. 

 

Between the constant questions in the journal entries and now the meddling, Yuuri is starting to feel overwhelmed. 

 

Victor’s phone buzzing is a welcome distraction. Yuuri doesn’t typically answer texts from people other than Yakov, but Christophe Giacometti is an extremely persistent man. He’s also the only person Victor seems to have any sort of friendship with, so as bitter as he is, Yuuri won’t ignore him. The run he’s taking with Makkachin slows to a walk as he digs the phone out of his pocket. 

 

Both Yuuri and Victor have expressed their disinterest in having a relationship at this point in time, but Yuuri can’t help but wonder. Victor and Christophe seem to get along swimmingly; even Yuuri has a bit of fun texting Christophe as Victor. 

 

Christophe is flirty to the point of making Yuuri blush furiously, but he’s also a thoughtful conversationalist— when he’s not sending memes about skating and running commentary on every scrap of gossip.

 

Inept as he is with social media, Yuuri never knew so much went on behind the scenes of the skating world.

 

Victor is lonely. Yuuri doesn’t need a flashing neon sign to see that. It’s probably part of the reason he’s so intent on meddling in Yuuri’s life. 

 

_ Hmm.  _

 

Christophe has sent him at least five texts detailing what he’d like to do when they’re in Japan for the NHK Trophy. It’s pure luck that they got assigned to the same competition, which Christophe’s complaining about last year confirms. 

 

Looping Makkachin’s leash over his arm, Yuuri starts typing before he can think better of it. 

 

**Vicky:** want to go out after the free skate? 

 

**Christoph-bae:** !!!! do u even have to ask ;) 

 

**Vicky** : :DDDDD

 

A whole slew of texts follows that, mostly Christophe ruminating on all the things he’d like to do and how he’s barely legal to drink in Japan. 

 

Yuuri lets him ramble and finishes his assigned workout. 

 

One of the strangest things about training as Victor is the massive gap between his own stamina and Victor’s. Minako has told him countless times that he’s a monster, but it’s different to experience it. 

 

Yakov has nearly murdered him more than once when he forgot that doing thirteen jumps in a row was not something Victor’s body was made for. 

 

Despite the grueling workout, Yuuri is still mad when he settles in for the night. The temptation to write a lecturing journal entry is strong, but Yuuri knows it won’t make a difference. Victor will skim it and then continue doing whatever he wants. 

 

Grim-faced, Yuuri snags a non-permanent marker off the desk. There’s one way to get Victor’s attention. 

 

He drags the marker over the smooth, perfect skin of his cheekbone, and only feels a little bad about it.

 

_ ‘Idiot.’ _

 

_ [Hatetsu, Early October 2013] _

 

He really should have expected retaliation. 

 

Yuuri scowls into the mirror as he scrubs marker off his face. Victor wasn’t any happier about Yuuri meddling with his life than Yuuri was. 

 

He’s not going to give it up yet though, because Victor clearly isn’t going to give up on pushing him to train in Detroit. 

 

Mari is still wheezing with laughter in the hallway after catching a glimpse. Yuuri feels resolve solidify in his stomach. 

 

If Victor is going to be stubborn about trying to fix his problems, then he’s going to fix Victor’s.

 

There’s still a bit of marker lingering when he heads out, but he prays no one notices. Fortunately, school is buzzing about the potential of seeing a comet next month, and no one pays him any mind. 

 

Yuuri doesn’t pay them any mind, either. His thoughts are much closer to the ground than a comet. 

 

_ [St. Petersburg, Early October 2016] _

 

A horrible realization occurs to Yuuri when he wakes to a very stiff journal entry from Victor.

 

_ Does Victor even like men? _ Yuuri has unintentionally projected his own preferences onto Victor and finds himself feeling terrible about it. 

 

Yuuri likes both men and women; that’s something he keeps quiet. But Victor… What type of person does he like? Does he even like people that way? 

 

Yuuri rolls over and smothers his face into the pillow, ignoring Makkachin’s concerned whine. He’s such an idiot. 

 

He lays there in misery for perhaps longer than necessary before dragging himself out of bed. Yakov will kill him if he’s late, and nothing sounds better than the ice right now. 

 

As with most things, Yuuri’s shelving this problem for later. 

 

Victor, in his fit of spitefulness, did not to the laundry. All that Yuuri has left to wear for his evening off-ice training is a pair of sleek black leggings. He shoves them into the skate bag and doesn’t look at them again until he’s in the changing room. 

 

Leggings. God-forsaken, tighter-than-hell, butt-clinging leggings. 

 

Yuuri struggles into them with resent and acrobatic moves that would impress Minako. He checks his appearance in the mirror, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Victor’s ass. It’s simply unfair. 

 

The only mercy is that no one else seems fazed by it. 

 

Yuuri walks home in them. Halfway there, his eyes catch on a small flower shop that is surprisingly still open, considering how late it is in the evening. 

 

His feet stutter on the pavement for just a moment before he sighs and slips inside. Guilt sits heavy in his stomach; he thinks about Victor’s spartan apartment as his eyes skim lustfully over the cacti. 

 

He finally settles on a hardy, leafy plant. It’s voluptuous and cheery, and, most importantly, non-toxic to pets. 

 

The purchase is made, and his resolve is settled by the time he sets the plant lovingly in a place where it will get enough sun. 

 

Yuuri procrastinates just a little longer with a shower and dinner before he sits down and opens the journal app. He’s not a particularly brave person; this feels like it might take all the bravery he has. 

 

_ {New Entry – October} _

 

_ Victor. I’m sorry for presuming that you find men attractive. Chris is just so… flirty, and _

_ my own preferences colored my outlook.   _

 

_ I guess what I’m trying to ask is, do you like guys? Or girls? Or anyone? I know you _

_ wrote it all down in an entry a while ago but I um. Deleted it without reading it. Sorry.  _

 

_ Care instructions for the plant are on the counter. Try not to kill it.  _

 

_ Let’s not write on each other’s faces again? _

 

_ -Y _

 

_ [Hasetsu, Early October 2013] _

 

Yuuri hates the way competitions make him feel. It drains the love he has for skating, and skating is his _ life. _

 

Some competitions are better than others. 

 

Standing rink-side, Minako-sensei at his side, he thinks today falls somewhere in between. The competition is one of the more prestigious Japanese ones. He needs to medal here if he wants the JSF to assign him to the Grand Prix again next year. 

 

He went last year but disappointed, coming strong out of Juniors only to choke on the Senior stage. The stakes were higher, and his anxiety skyrocketed in response.  

 

Yuuri can practically feel Minako’s worry as she holds her hand out to take his jacket and skate guards. 

 

“Do your best,” she says, and he manages a nod. 

 

His legs feel like jelly. He forces himself to step out onto the ice, gliding around for two laps before stopping on center ice. 

 

Yuuri falls into his starting pose and tries to let his mind go blank. There’s a moment where all he can think about are Victor’s programs, and the stupid amount of advice and cheering Victor had left on his phone. 

 

He’s glad that they didn’t switch today. 

 

The music starts and he lets go of everything else. All in all it’s not a bad showing of his short program, even if he fell out of one jump. He’s had worse days without a doubt. 

 

It’s almost as if… it’s almost as if he’s gotten used to carrying the weight of being Victor, so as himself, the expectations seem lower. His programs aren’t near as hard, and Minako may be intense, but she’s definitely not a yeller like Yakov. 

 

“That was good, Yuuri!” Minako praises, handing him his skate guards and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “You put your hand down on a jump, but your PC score should make up for it.” 

 

Yuuri lets out a shaky breath, clipping the guards on and shrugging into his jacket. The kiss and cry awaits.

 

* 

 

Two days in a row as himself? That’s unusual these days. Poetic justice on the part of the universe, maybe, making him skate for himself. 

 

Yuuri thinks about Victor’s programs as he warms up. If he wants to skate on the same ice as Victor someday, he has a lot of catching up to do. 

 

Working with Yakov has been a surprising help. His jumps are better for it, even if it strained his nerves. 

 

Minako calls him off the ice, and he finishes the rest of his warm-up on solid ground. He can’t mess this up. Messing this up means no Grand Prix series next year, and the longer it takes for him to get there, the more his chances of skating against Victor decrease. 

 

Skating is a sport for the young. It’s taxing on the body, and like any other professional athletes, skaters are subject to the condition of their bodies. 

 

An injury on his part— or, god forbid, Victor’s— could bring a budding dream to an abrupt end. 

 

The thought makes Yuuri’s eyes sting with the threat of tears.  _ No. _ He wants this. The more he’s gotten to know Victor and see more of his life, the more determined he is. 

 

Victor is no longer a distant goal. He’s a nosy meddler who cheers for Yuuri and feeds his dog too many treats. He’s human. 

 

Someone speaks near Yuuri’s ear— Minako— and he starts. 

 

“Are you okay?” she asks worriedly. 

 

He nods, stooping to remove his guards as his turn comes. When he straightens, he lifts his chin and squares his shoulders. The anxiety that is his constant companion gets shoved into a corner of his mind as he shuts down. 

 

He can’t afford to think about anything that isn’t this skate. 

 

He remembers almost none of it coming off the ice, but it doesn’t matter. The gold around his neck is heavy, and a trip to next year’s Grand Prix is a little less distant. 

 

There is also the answer from Victor that he’s been avoiding, choosing to prepare for the upcoming competition instead. Now he opens the journal app with trepidation, one hand clamped over his eyes. 

 

_ {New Entry – Early October} _

 

_ Yuuuuuri! I’m sorry for meddling as well :((((((  _

 

_ I don’t have time for relationships, only for the ice. I think this is the first time anyone has _

_ ever presumed I’m attracted to men, but you would be right. Christophe is just a friend _

_ though, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop trying to set us up.  _

 

_ Davai, Yuuri! Skate well!  _

 

_ -V <3 _

 

_ [Skate America, October 21, 2016] _

 

It would be an understatement to say that Yuuri is panicking. 

 

He woke up this morning somewhere that was neither his bedroom, nor Victor’s apartment. And while they’d prepared for the possibility of having to skate as each other in competition… The idea of skating as Victor in his first Grand Prix event is terrifying. 

 

He yanks the covers over his head and buries his face in the pillow. There’s still twenty minutes before someone will come looking for him, and he intends to freak out for  _ all  _ of them. 

 

Being Victor in St. Petersburg, at his home rink, is one thing. Being Victor at a major event that’s crawling with press, fans, and other skaters… is something else entirely. 

 

There’s a whole slew of words Yuuri would like to apply to it. Horrifying, miserable, claustrophobic. He could go on and on. 

 

Unfortunately, he has to look camera ready, and that involves doing something with all this goddamn hair. Thank god he’s gotten better at styling it and has managed to braid it back into a long, flowing ponytail by the time Yakov is hammering on the door. 

 

No time for mental preparation, apparently. 

 

“Vitya! We’re going to be late!”

 

Yuuri takes a shaky breath. He’s going to have to do this whether he wants to or not. 

 

“I’ll be out in a minute! So impatient!” he calls back, trying to channel as much Victor attitude as he can manage. 

 

Yakov snorts, giving the door another rap for good measure. Yuuri hurries around the room, pulling Victor’s team Russia jacket on over the costume and snagging the skate bag. 

 

Both Yakov and Georgi are waiting outside the door. Neither look too pleased with him. Smiling brilliantly, Yuuri swallows down the urge to crawl into a corner and hide. 

 

All he has to do is take deep breaths and pretend he’s Victor. He’s watched enough interviews, read enough articles, and generally obsessed enough that he should know how to act like Victor. He hopes.

 

The first piece to click into place is the smile. Victor has perfected his press-ready smile, and it’s a relief that his mouth falls into it naturally. It’s just in time, too, because the press is on them the second they get down to the lobby. 

 

Confidence. That’s another bit. Victor exudes confidence, and Yuuri fakes it as best he can as the press get up in his face. There’s a lot of questions about his programs, which he dodges. 

 

“You’ll just have to watch me today and find out, hm?” he teases, punctuating it with a casual toss of his head. 

 

Yuuri forgets to be stressed for a moment because  _ wow, _ hair flips are stupidly satisfying, and Victor’s swishes and sways in a way that reeks of sass. 

 

Yakov ushers both he and Georgi out the door and into their ride to the rink. He’s still lecturing about what he wants from their warm-ups when they arrive and escape into the cool air. 

 

October in Chicago is fresh and crisp, with the scent of drying leaves and moist soil on the wind. Unfortunately,Yuuri doesn’t get more than a minute to enjoy it because of warm-ups. He’s jittery on the ice, barely disguising it as he comes off to finish his stretches. 

 

“Downgrade one of your quads,” Yakov hisses into his ear. “You look shaky.”

 

For a moment his chest goes cold, and then resolve drops into his stomach like a stone. “No.”

 

Yakov, predictably, turns beet red and starts ranting, but Yuuri tunes it out while he stretches. He’s nervous as hell, but Victor wouldn’t give up that quad, so he won’t either. He can land it, he’s landed it in practice as Victor before. 

 

It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. 

 

As he approaches rink-side, Yuuri can’t help but recall that there’s always a story to Victor’s programs. It’s one of the things he’s always loved most about Victor’s skating. 

 

Yuuri feels numb relief as he eases onto the ice and assumes the starting pose. What does he feel when he watches Victor skate? That’s what he wants to embody. 

 

The excitement— the sheer beauty of watching Victor perform his heart out. That’s what Yuuri wants to do. 

 

How did the short program’s story go? Victor had written it out for him at one point, to help him understand it better. 

 

_ Ah, yes. _ It was about a boy discovering magic. 

 

Yuuri lets himself get lost in telling the story. It’s meandering but bright and punctuated in unexpected places, fun and exhilarating in a way he’s not used to feeling in competition. 

 

He lands the quads with a combination of sheer luck and Victor’s honed strength. Yuuri hopes Victor doesn’t mind that he put a little of his own flair on the step sequence. He’s been mimicking Victor’s skating for long enough that it’s evident in his own, so likely, no one will even notice. 

 

The notes rise in a crescendo and Yuuri strikes the final pose, chest heaving. 

 

The audience is louder than he’s ever heard it. He takes his bows in a daze. It isn’t until Yakov is barking in his face about his errors that he remembers he still has to play Victor. 

 

“What was that step sequence?” Yakov fumes as Yuuri clips on his guards. 

 

_ Oops. _ Guess someone did notice. 

 

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” he muses, index finger pressed to his lower lip in a cheeky smile. 

 

It’s a move he’s watched Victor pull on Yakov countless times. Yakov is well and truly furious now, but he has no choice but to escort him to the kiss and cry. 

 

The scores… Yuuri wants to sag with relief. They’re not Victor’s best, sure, but they aren’t bad, either. It’s better than Yuuri has ever scored, and Victor can make up points tomorrow in the free skate. 

 

He did it. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, on my 4th rewatch of YOI for research: Yuuri canonically has a cactus in his room? Guess this is prime real estate for me to project my cacti/succulent obsession on :')
> 
> also did you know that meggings are a thing? I don't think Yuuri at this point would have the confidence to wear them, but Victor.... Victor owns that shit


	7. Victor

_ [St. Petersburg, October 22, 2016] _

 

As per tradition, Victor kisses the ring finger on his right hand as he steps out onto the ice.

 

The free skate comes as naturally to him as breathing. It’s beautiful and elegant, and Victor loves it, but there’s too much to think about for him to fully enjoy it. 

 

Yuuri skated as him yesterday in the short program. 

 

Victor strikes a textbook Ina Bauer, body arched gracefully as he wonders at the miracle of it all. Yuuri skated as him yesterday and did wonderfully. 

 

It wasn’t perfect, but Victor does not expect nor want perfect. What he’s interested in is the step sequence. Yakov was still hopping mad about it this morning. Victor had ignored him, eyes glued to the clip on his phone. 

 

Yuuri’s innate sense of musicality looks good on Victor. Victor would be jealous if he didn’t want so badly to see that musicality on Yuuri himself. 

 

His time on the ice is done before he can even register it. He sweeps into his customary bows before he glides toward the exit. 

 

Yakov’s yelling is at a solid three, which means that all around it was a pretty good performance. Victor smiles for the camera, tuning out most of it. 

 

“Are you even listening to me?” Yakov growls as they sit down in the kiss and cry to await the scores. “I told you yesterday to downgrade your second quad if you weren’t feeling up to it, and you ignored me then too.” 

 

“Don’t I always ignore you?” Victor teases.

 

Yakov wanted him to downgrade quads yesterday? Yuuri must have been panicking. Or maybe not, since he clearly blew off Yakov’s advice.  _ Yuuri, the little rebel huh? _

 

His musings are interrupted by the score announcement. Not a personal best, but it’s close. More than enough to take gold, anyway. Victor wants to win the Grand Prix Final this year. All he has to do is skate well enough at the NHK Trophy to qualify and then he’s home free. 

 

“Victor, care to tell us about the new approach you took on the ice yesterday? Even your coach seemed surprised by the step sequence.” 

 

Victor, contrary to popular belief, doesn’t care much for the press. It’s really a testament to his ability to fake it that anyone believes he does. 

 

Still, he has a role to play. 

 

“I’ve been finding my inspiration in some interesting places lately,” he says coyly, tugging on the end of his ponytail. 

 

They’re definitely going to think he’s dating someone now. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he isn’t. Such is the life of Victor Nikiforov. 

 

He answers a few more benign questions before Yakov decides it’s time to depart for the medal ceremony. More smiles, a well-placed wink, and eventually Victor is free to retreat to his hotel room. 

 

Their flight home is early in the morning, so he crashes into his bed rather than hitting the town. Chicago, from what he understands, probably isn’t the best place to go wandering around at night anyway. 

 

Victor checks in with Makkachin, making obnoxious kissy noises at camera. When his dog gets bored with him, he finally answers the texts from Christophe that arrived sometime earlier. 

 

**Christoph-bae:** hey fancy feet

 

**Christoph-bae:** you may have won skate America (congrats)

 

**Christoph-bae:** but im gonna kick ur ass at NHK

 

**Christoph-bae:** and then we’re going out ;) 

 

**Vicky:** I’ll buy consolation drinks when you lose :):):)

 

**Christoph-bae:** HOW DARE

 

**Christoph-bae:** and here I thought we were beginning to understand each other D;

 

**Vicky:** ¯\\_( ツ )_/¯

 

**Vicky:** (¬‿¬ )

 

**Christoph-bae:** idk when you downloaded a kaomoji keyboard but i’m afraid

 

**Vicky:** (╬ Ò ﹏ Ó)

 

**Christoph-bae:** alright alright. get some sleep you lunatic 

 

 **Vicky:** ( ´ ∀ `)ノ～ ♡

 

Victor is pretty sure Yuuri is the one who downloaded the new emoji keyboard, but he’s getting a kick out of it. 

 

He scoots to the bedside where the charger is and plugs in his phone, curling up as he searches for footage of the full short program. He’d tried to watch it in Hasetsu, but for some reason had been unable to find the stream. 

 

Victor clicks on the link with far too much eagerness, eyes glued to the screen. 

 

He wonders, after watching it for the third time, how no one realizes that wasn’t him? It looks like him, yes, but even in a different body Yuuri has a very unique way of moving. Victor couldn’t replicate it even in his dreams. 

 

He might try though, he thinks, eyelids growing heavy. To skate with Yuuri would be a good dream. 

 

*

 

Makkachin barrels into Victor the moment he steps through the door, and he gladly lets himself get taken down. 

 

His suitcases stay abandoned in the hallway as he hugs his dog to his chest. He beams as his face gets covered in dog slobber. 

 

“I missed you too, Makka,” he sighs. 

 

One last ear ruffle and he drags himself up off the floor. The flight was excruciatingly long, and he’d prefer to spend most of the day relaxing. 

 

As he passes through the living room, his eyes catch on a bit of green that’s out of place. Since when did he have a plant? It’s a cute house plant, but he definitely didn’t buy it, which means…

 

Victor stoops to study it, picking up the note card tucked under the bottom corner of the pot. 

 

_ Care Instructions: _

 

  * __Water me once a week, or when my soil is dry!__


  * _I like sun!_


  * _Makkachin, please don’t eat me, but I won’t hurt you if you do_



 

 

_ -Try not to kill it, _

_ Yuuri :) _

 

He sets the card down and takes a step back to admire it. He’s not really sure what Yuuri’s motivation was. Is it an apology plant? Does he think the apartment needs brightening up?

 

Victor casts his gaze across his home and thinks that maybe that’s it. Because of how much he skates, and how much he travels, he hasn’t really put a lot of personal touches in here. 

 

It lacks the family photos that Victor loves to admire in Yuuri’s room. That, however, is not something he can fix. 

 

Yuuri has a cactus in his room, now that Victor thinks of it. Why didn’t Yuuri get him a cactus? 

 

_ {New Entry – October 23} _

 

_ Thank you for the plant, Yuuri! It’s very cute! Why didn’t you get me a cactus like you _

_ have? Cacti are really cool, even if they aren’t really native to Russia :(  _

 

_ I liked the step sequences you added to the program! One day I want to see you skate as _

_ you, I’m sure it will be beautiful.  _

 

_ -V _

 

Victor strokes an idle finger down one of the plant’s leaves. There’s no point in denying it anymore: he’s falling in love with Katsuki Yuuri. 

 

Katsuki Yuuri, whose name is strangely familiar. Victor should press, should try to figure out why he feels like he knew that name even before they started switching, but he doesn’t.  

 

All the pieces are settling into place, and Victor is afraid of breathing wrong and sending them all scattering. 

 

He’ll keep Yuuri, if he can. 

 

Because Yuuri makes him feel alive. Because Hasetsu feels like home. 

 

_ [Hasetsu, Early November 2013] _

 

Victor has a theory that if he can get Yuuri’s body used to doing quads, muscle memory will help pick up the slack where Yuuri’s mind lets him down. 

 

Half the struggle of nailing jumps in figure skating is having the right mindset going into them. If you think you’re going to fall, it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

 

The ice is a cruel mistress. 

 

He practices day and night, using all the free time he can steal to work on it. This is typical Yuuri behavior evidently; no one questions him. Minako makes time for him in the dance studio, and Yuuko videos jumps for him so he can study his form. 

 

Victor revels in the time he gets to skate alone. He rarely gets to do so at his home rink. Yuuko and Nishigori’s presence is just as good though. Despite the fact that neither of them compete anymore, they’re very knowledgeable, and more than willing to lend a hand.

 

He spends hours poring over footage of his jumps to make sure the take off and landing is just right. Yuuko sits with him, often bringing snacks for them to munch on. 

 

She seems surprised when Victor leans in close to point out details or nudges her companionably with an elbow. It takes him almost two weeks to figure it out, but it becomes increasingly clear that Yuuri is probably nursing a crush on Yuuko. 

 

It’s kind of cute, in a puppy dog kind of way, but Victor also feels bad. Yuuko and Nishigori are clearly an item, and he doesn’t think that’ll change. 

 

Considering his own exuberant personality differs so much from shy Yuuri, Victor does try his best to contain himself. He doesn’t want to give the people close to Yuuri whiplash or concern them. 

 

One night, when Victor is running through Yuuri’s programs, Yuuko calls to him across the ice.“Hey Yuuri-kun?” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“I know you get anxious about your skating, but I’m glad to see that you’re happy.” Yuuko grins, palms cupping her cheeks as she rests her elbows on the boards. 

 

Victor slows and makes his way over to her.

 

“Thanks, Yuu-chan,” he murmurs, smiling at her as he adjusts his glasses. 

 

“I’ll miss you when you move to Detroit,” she says, and it’s a gut punch. 

 

“I’ll miss you too,” he chokes. 

 

Raw honesty is not something he’s used to. But either way, whether Yuuri moves to Detroit or not, there will come a time when Victor won’t see Yuuko anymore. 

 

They can’t switch forever, right? There will have to be an end, and  _ oh _ … now he’s tearing up. Yuuri’s body cries far more easily than his own. 

 

Yuuko gives a watery laugh and leans over the barrier to hug him tightly. “We’ll always be friends, no matter what,” she promises. “Always.” 

 

It breaks his heart. 

 

*

 

Victor can’t seem to get his fear of the end out of his head after that. It has him torn up in all sorts of ways, because while his life would be blissfully uncomplicated without the switching, he’d lose Hasetsu. 

 

He really doesn’t want to lose any of it. 

 

Yuuri’s family, Yuuko and Nishigori, Minako, the beauty of the town itself… Yuuri, who occupies Victor’s thoughts more than he doesn’t these days. He almost cries in relief when he opens his eyes and finds himself in Yuuri’s bedroom. 

 

The posters of him still hang on the wall— survivors of Yuuri’s initial panic. He’d tried to take them all down, but Victor had put them all back up, and after two weeks of back and forth, they stayed. 

 

Victor is relieved, but he feels heavy in a way that isn’t easily remedied. 

 

It’s been a while since he’s felt this way, like he’s slogging through mud with earmuffs on. His happiness to be in Hasetsu is distant, somewhere he can’t quite grasp. 

 

Days like this happen. Normally he copes with them, either by skating until he drops, or hiding from Yakov and hibernating for a full day. 

 

He rolls over and buries his face in his pillow with a whine. Getting out of bed will take herculean effort. 

 

Vicchan comes up from his spot at the far end of the bed to cover Victor’s face in kisses. Victor gently cradles the pup in his arms, relieved that Vicchan doesn’t seem to mind being hugged to his chest. 

 

He loves everything about Makkachin, but Vicchan is definitely a more convenient size for snuggling. 

 

Victor shuts his eyes and they drift until Mari comes to drag them out of bed. 

 

It’s Saturday, so he doesn’t have to worry about going to school, but that doesn’t mean his agenda is empty. Yuuri has a competition next weekend, which means that he definitely scheduled ice time today as well as time with Minako. 

 

“Yuuri,” Mari chides as she cracks the door open. 

 

Victor sighs and gathers the willpower to move. It’s not fair to anyone if he lays in bed all day because he feels off. 

 

Before he manages to get up, something heavy settles on the bed. He peels back the covers enough to reveal that Mari has draped herself across the end. 

 

“Ten minutes,” she says to the ceiling. “If you don’t want to get up after that, I won’t make you.”

 

It takes him a moment to understand what she’s offering him. His throat is too thick for words, so he squirms his blanket nest around, Vicchan included, to lay next to her. 

 

Neither of them speak. Mari keeps her eyes on the ceiling and Victor pieces himself together, bit by bit. When the ten minutes are over, she sits up and Victor follows. 

 

She drops a hand into his hair, ruffling it gently before leaving the room. “Come down and eat something before you leave.” 

 

Victor isn’t particularly hungry but he nods anyway, letting Hiroko fuss over him once he’s dressed. 

 

She puts something mild in front of him to eat, hovering until he’s finished at least half of it. There’s a worried pinch to her brow that he feels bad about it until she squishes him with a hug when he gets up to leave. 

 

“We love you,” she murmurs, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Take care. Come home and soak in the springs tonight.” 

 

“Okay,” he agrees, weary but bolstered enough to make it through the day. 

 

The Katsukis are far too good to him. 

 

*

 

“So, Not-Yuuri,” Mari says casually as they’re elbow deep in suds. 

 

Victor nearly drops the plate he’s holding on the floor. “Huh?”

 

“Not-Yuuri.” She enunciates with no small amount of sarcasm. “I know my brother, and I’ve noticed him acting unlike himself. What’s your name?”

 

Mari is on no uncertain terms a menace. Victor swallows hard and sets the plate down safely on the counter. 

 

“Victor Nikiforov,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to look away from those piercing brown eyes. 

 

She blinks once, shakes her head to clear it, and then starts laughing. 

 

“I’ll give you that one, Yuuri. Is this a long running prank? Because you got me good.” 

 

Victor waits until she realizes he isn’t laughing with her. 

 

“Oh, you were serious?” she says suspiciously. “Prove you’re not Yuuri then. Victor Nikiforov’s face is all over the walls. Asking about that isn’t a good test of truth.” 

 

It only takes him a moment to come up with a solution. 

 

“I think Yuuri is cute, and that if he goes to train in Detroit, he could be amazing,” Victor says. 

 

Yuuri, he’s learned, has very little confidence in himself. The easiest verification is to express how much faith Victor has in him instead. 

 

Surprise is an interesting expression on Mari. It’s fleeting, though, because the laughter comes back in full force. 

 

“Well Victor, the universe has a good sense of humor doesn’t it?” She’s  _ wheezing _ . “Yuuri is obsessed with you. Did he freak out? Is he still freaking out?”

 

“He’s not still freaking out,” Victor promises. “We’ve mostly figured it out, although the body-swapping was definitely unsettling the beginning.” 

 

“Huh, I’m sure. If you need anything, Victor, I’m your honorary big sister from now on.” Mari grins, and before Victor can get out of reach, she grabs hold of him and ruffles his hair. 

 

Having an honorary sister won’t be that bad, he’s sure. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Victor have friends 2K19 :') also if ya'll are wondering why Mari just rolls with this... she's about the same age as I am now, and Yuuri is about the same age as my youngest brother. and honestly... I would just be like ? okay. you do you ya weird kid kasdfjasdf


	8. Yuuri

_ [Hasetsu, Mid November 2013] _

 

Yuuri’s gaze shifts around his room in a consistent pattern. It starts on the ceiling, takes a slow glide across the posters of Victor, skittishly skirts the open email draft, and finally drops into his lap. 

 

In his fit of sheer procrastination he’d found a bundle of string in his desk drawer. It’s a relic of his middle school days, when Yuuko convinced him to make braided bracelets with her. 

 

It was the fad then amongst the girls to make colorful bracelets for each other and— if you were brave enough— for your crush. 

 

Since Yuuko spent most of her free time at the rink and Nishigori was an unwilling party, Yuuri was coerced into doing it with her. Initially he’d hated it. He always got the strings tangled and could never remember the pattern. 

 

They’d fuss over them in the rink’s stands: Yuuri frustrated and Yuuko giggling, Nishigori ignoring both of them. Like with skating, practice eventually made up for Yuuri’s deficiencies. 

 

His weaving became good enough that Yuuko demanded he make them friendship bracelets. Even Nishigori consented to wearing them, and the three of them were a set. 

 

But, like most fads, braiding faded out and Yuuri’s whole life became skating. Now, string rediscovered, he’s making a bracelet to keep his hands occupied while he thinks. 

 

Yuuri has been putting off making an official decision about Detroit for months. He knows in his gut what he wants to do, what his family and friends want him to do, but he still feels torn. 

 

Hasetsu has always been his home. Moving to Detroit means leaving everything he’s ever known behind. He’s been lonely, sure, but he’s never been well and truly  _ alone. _

 

The thought is terrifying. 

 

His English is good enough that he’s fairly confident in his ability to get by, but… There are so many ‘buts’ and ‘what ifs’ that every time he tries to make a decision his anxiety spirals out of control. 

 

A life he’s comfortable with, or his dream… 

 

Yuuri sighs. His fingers fumble on the strings; he carefully picks apart the knot he created. He knows what he’s going to do. He’s known in his gut since the moment he’d accepted that Celestino was serious about his offer. 

 

The opportunity to make skating his career is too good to pass up. Victor has been unsubtly pushing him too, and even though it’s caused more than one spat between them, he’s kind of glad. 

 

His hesitation is partly because he doesn’t want to get all the way to Detroit and have Celestino realize that he isn’t good enough. Victor, for whatever reason, believes in him; he’s very vocal about that belief. 

 

Yuuri is grateful. Even having followed his life and career closely for years, Victor is a lot different than Yuuri would have expected. 

 

The real Victor is flawed in ways that Yuuri wouldn’t have ever thought to consider. He’s nosy, pushy, stubborn, and a meddler. As far as Yuuri can tell, his only family is Makkachin, and Yakov to some extent. 

 

All of these things, and Yuuri is still falling in love with him. 

 

Because his flaws make him human; because Yuuri yearns to fill in the spaces. Victor is imperfect, but he is also kind, and silly, and easily delighted. Yuuri loves him despite the time, space, and sheer talent that divide them. 

 

Which is why it’s hopeless. 

 

Yuuri ties off the bracelet gently and sets it on the desk before tapping his laptop awake. He writes the email to Celestino in bits, agonizing over each sentence until he gets fed up and hits send. 

 

It’s done. He’s officially going to be moving to Detroit after graduation. 

 

“I did it, Vicchan,” he murmurs, and Vicchan perks his ears curiously at his name.

 

Still, he has competitions and a whole season ahead of him, so while this decision is a weight off of his chest, he can’t ease up now. 

 

 His planner sits mockingly on the far corner of his desk. Yuuri, resisting the urge to thunk his head down on the desk, drags the planner toward him and leafs through to the monthly page. 

 

Victor and Christophe are both skating at the NHK Trophy at the end of the month. Despite Victor’s continuous protests, Yuuri has managed to schedule somewhat of a date for the two of them. 

 

He likes Christophe, and he kind of hopes that he’ll be Victor that day. Though that would mean skating as Victor in competition again. He’s not sure he can handle that a second time. 

 

As much time as he’s spent putting together a thoughtful evening for them, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. Yes, he likes Christophe. Yuuri is probably unhealthily invested in Victor’s happiness, which is why he’s put so much effort into this. But.

 

Even if there isn’t the slightest chance Victor might feel that way about him,  _ Yuuri _ wants to be the one going on a date with Victor. Even though he’s just Yuuri, a mediocre skater with lofty goals. 

 

He wants it. He wants it almost as much as he wants skating, which scares him. 

 

Yuuri should know better than to dream of the unattainable, but he tucks his love for Victor away in a secret part of his heart. Victor will go on a date with Christophe after the free skate at the NHK Trophy. They’ll take in Tokyo together and probably fall in love. Yuuri will move to Detroit and hopefully, maybe, he can meet Victor one day on the ice. 

 

That would be enough. 

 

_  [NHK Trophy, November 30, 2013] _

 

The first morning of the NHK Trophy, Yuuri wakes with tears in his eyes and his heart in his throat. He clutches the front of his sleep shirt while he catches his breath, desperate to remember what he’d been dreaming about. 

 

It’s no use. The last tendrils of the dream slip away, leaving him with a gaping hole in his chest and a sense of reckless abandon. 

 

Yuuri rolls over, minding not to kick Vicchan, and pulls his laptop to him. He shouldn’t, but he flips it open and searches tickets to Tokyo. 

 

He can’t explain how he knows it, but he does: something strange is going on, and he can only get to the bottom of it in Tokyo. 

 

Which is how he ends up first on a train to Fukuoka, then on a plane. He has enough money saved to do so, even if Mari scolded him as he snuck out the door. 

 

“What are you doing?” she’d hissed, grouchy before her morning dose of caffeine. 

 

“I have to see him.” 

 

And Mari, because she’s sharp as a tack, had let him go with limited protests. Yuuri is grateful that she knows about Victor; it’s one less person he has to explain himself to. 

 

He sighs and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. Yesterday had been busy since everyone had insisted on making an event of his eighteenth birthday. Yuuri isn’t big on celebrations— his family knows this— so maybe they won’t be so mad about him ducking out today. 

 

*

 

Luck and the JSF are on his side when he manages to secure a ticket. The crush of the crowd is nearly overwhelming; he fights his way through it, finding a stand selling hot tea on the way to his seat. 

 

He’s been up since before dawn, and caffeine is a now a necessity. Yuuri cradles the cup protectively in his hands as he sinks down into the stadium seating. He can already picture all the stretching he’ll have to do tomorrow when the hard plastic digs into his back.. 

 

Minako will definitely also kill him for skipping their session today. But it’s worth it. 

 

Yuuri watches the ladies singles go first, taking mental notes of things to tell Yuuko to try. There’s inspiration to be found in every skater who steps out onto the ice. 

 

His tea is gone by the time the men’s singles start warming up. He takes the opportunity to go to the bathroom and stretch a little in the hallway before returning. It’s hard to tell from so high up, but the little glimpses he catches of Victor’s silvery ponytail send bolts of electricity through his chest. 

 

Christophe is down there somewhere too, visible only by the yellow-blond color of his hair. 

 

The anticipation curling in Yuuri’s stomach is almost too much to bear. It builds and builds as each skater preceding Victor steps out and skates their hearts out on the ice. By the time Victor is taking off his skate guards, Yuuri is on the edge of his seat.

 

Yuuri’s too excited for the first few notes to notice, but it hits him as an overwhelming force. This isn’t the short program he’d spent so much time practicing as Victor. He doesn’t even recognize it. 

 

He watches anyway, riveted, as Victor skates. As always, he’s beautiful and untouchable. Yuuri unconsciously hooks his fingers through the cord he’d tied onto his wrist a few weeks ago.

 

Questions without answers are making his head spin. He stays seated while they announce Victor’s scores and the last few skaters take their turn. 

 

Yuuri finally stands when the ice dancers take to the ice to warm up, picking his way through the flood of people also trying to leave. The press junket must be done as well, because Yuuri can see skaters departing amongst the fans. 

 

A glimpse of silver sets his feet in motion. All he can think of is seeing Victor, talking to him face to face. 

 

It’s selfish of him, but he wants it so badly that the guilt is secondary. His dancing skills come in handy as he spins neatly around people, dodging where they might have collided. 

 

“Victor!” he says when he finds himself close enough to touch. 

 

Brilliant blue eyes light to his face and Yuuri can’t help but think Victor looks younger. There’s more softness to this face than the one he’s gotten used to seeing in the mirror. 

 

“Do I know you?” Victor asks, puzzled, and Yuuri’s heart shatters. 

 

“It’s me, don’t you remember?” Yuuri breathes, already feeling the tears rising in eyes. 

 

Of course Victor doesn’t know him. Yuuri is just a nobody, after all. There isn’t even a hint of recognition in those eyes and it hurts worse than anything Yuuri’s ever known.

 

“Sorry to bother you,” he mumbles, and turns to flee.  

 

“Wait!” Victor catches him by the wrist. “What is your name?” 

 

The crowd is pressing close in on them. Yuuri wants nothing more than to disappear into it. He can’t help but answer Victor though, because all he’s ever wanted was to talk to him.  

 

“Yuuri,” he says, and lets the crowd swallow him whole. 

 

Yuuri doesn’t notice that the bracelet is gone, as if it’d never been in the first place.

 

He shuts down for the journey home, going through the motions robotically so he doesn’t have to be seen crying on public transit. His heart is a limp, sad thing in his chest, utterly destroyed. 

 

All his worst fears have been realized. There’s nothing to do but go home and lick his wounds. He knew better than to hope, and yet he hoped anyway. 

 

At least moving to Detroit will be a merciful change. Yuuri can make himself into a new person there and forget this ever happened. 

 

It’s late when he gets back to Hasetsu. Lanterns and banners are hung in preparation for tomorrow’s festival. Yuuri doesn’t think he wants to go. 

 

_ [Hasetsu, November 30, 2013] _

 

Yuuri goes to the festival only because Yuuko and his family make him. He fidgets in his traditional dress as he meets Yuuko at the bottom of the hill. 

 

“You look nice.” she compliments him despite the bags under his eyes and the weariness hidden behind his glasses. 

 

“You do too,” he returns, because she does look truly lovely. 

 

Yuuko nods a little to herself, staring at the ground as they walk toward where the comet viewing is being held. 

 

“Hey Yuuri-kun?” she says, and her tone instantly has his attention. 

 

“Yeah, Yuu-chan?”

 

She takes a deep breath, seemingly to steel herself. 

 

“I’m pregnant,” she blurts. 

 

Yuuri gapes for a moment before he recovers. “Congratulations, Yuu-chan! I’m sure you and Nishigori will be great parents,” he says gently. 

 

There’s no question that the child is Nishigori’s. Yuuri may have a crush a mile wide, but it’s puppy love in comparison to what Yuuko and Nishigori feel for each other. 

 

Yuuko slumps in relief, wiping happy tears from her eyes. “Thanks, Yuuri-kun. I’m a little scared but, I think I’m ready for this new life.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes are a little wet too. Nishigori comes to greet them when they reach the viewing spot, gathering Yuuko into his arms. 

 

The sun has gone down enough now that the comet is more visible as it streaks across the sky. Yuuri stands apart from the other two, head tilted back as he watches its progress. 

 

Victor and Christophe should be on their date right now. Yuuri hopes it goes well. 

 

The comet is beautiful. The trail it leaves is a mix of purples, blues, and greens, as if someone had taken their paintbrush and swept it across the sky. It makes Yuuri feel smaller. He is but one person on this earth.

 

Yuuri closes his eyes as the comet begins to visibly splinter. He hopes that he can do something great with this small life of his.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now s*#& is gets real >:) if you think you've picked up some of the hints I've been putting down.. you're gonna find out if you're right soon


	9. Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dramatic flute playing*

_ [NHK, November 30, 2016] _

 

The morning of the free skate, Victor wakes up with tears stinging his eyes. He’s not entirely sure why they’re there—he’s not much of a crier—but they suit the strange feeling in his chest.

 

He drags himself out of bed and covers the redness with a healthy glob of coverup. His reflection in the mirror looks weary, and he sighs. Victor has too much of the world in front of him to make such a face. He tries a smile, satisfied with the light it brings back into his eyes. 

 

There’s the free skate, and then he’ll hang out with Chris. Plenty to look forward to. 

 

Victor nearly falls out of his chair opens the journal and sees what Yuuri had planned for tonight. It is, very clearly, a date. Not just hanging out—a date date. And Christophe the traitor seems to be going along with it. 

 

He’d rather like to throttle both of them. Why is it that neither of them listen when he says he doesn’t have time for a relationship right now? 

 

Sighing through his nose, Victor sets the phone down and resumes getting ready. He needs to focus on the free skate. All of this nonsense can be dealt with at a later date. Conveniently, Christophe will be within reach to throttle thanks to Yuuri. 

 

*

 

The top of the podium gives Victor a rather nice view of Christophe’s pout. Silver isn’t something to turn your nose up at, though, and Victor tells his friend as much. 

 

“Then you should take it, it matches your hair,” Christophe counters. “I’ll get gold next time.”

 

He’s frustrated, a feeling Victor understands well.

 

“I’m sure you will,” Victor says earnestly, stepping down onto the platform with Christophe, slinging his arms around his shoulder for a picture. 

 

Christophe snorts, but smiles for the cameras. “You’d better be taking me somewhere nice tonight.” 

 

Victor is seriously going to kill Yuuri for making this a date. But he’s a gentleman, and he and Christophe are friends. 

 

“Only the best for you, darling. I have it all planned out,” Victor purrs. 

 

It gets the desired laugh out of Christophe, who playfully shoves him. 

 

“Alright alright. Let’s get the hell out of here, yeah?”

 

Getting away from the press is a challenge, and only their coaches running interference allows them to get clear. They split up at the hotel to shower and change. Victor takes the time to fix his concealer and blow dry his hair, yet somehow makes it back down to the lobby before Christophe.

 

While he waits he scrolls his phone, going through every social media app he has before he caves and checks the journal app. 

 

And  _ wow,  _ Yuuri was not messing around when he planned this date. He was even thoughtful enough to type out a couple useful Japanese phrases. Their understanding of the other’s language only works when they’re body swapped, which Victor thinks is a little unfair. 

 

He wants to be able to understand Yuuri all the time. 

 

“Ready?” Christophe says too close to his ear, and it takes all the grace Victor possesses to not jump out of his skin. 

 

He pouts. “I was the one waiting on you.” 

 

Christophe flutters those ridiculously long lashes at him. “This look takes time.” 

 

Unable to help it, Victor snorts as he offers Christophe a gentlemanly arm. He has no idea why Yuuri keeps pushing this. He and Christophe are compatible as friends, but he’s not so sure that dating would work for them. 

 

He’ll give it his best, if only to make Yuuri happy.

 

*

 

“You know, you’ve seemed a lot different lately,” Christophe comments, swirling his glass of wine. 

 

Victor inclines his head. “Is that good or bad?” 

 

Christophe shrugs. “A little of both, I suppose. You’ve been a lot more approachable.” 

 

Offended, Victor clutches his hand to his chest. “I’m always approachable! I’m the most approachable.” 

 

The answering laughter is almost enough to spill the glass of wine Christophe is holding. “Sure Victor.”

 

It’s said with humor, but the pause that follows is more weighty than Victor would like. He opens his mouth to break it, but Christophe beats him to it. 

 

“There’s someone else in your life now, isn’t there?” Christophe asks, hazel eyes boring straight into Victor’s soul. “I can tell.” 

 

“No there’s not,” Victor protests. Unbidden, his thoughts go to Yuuri. 

 

His feelings for Yuuri are complicated and made even more complicated by the situation they’re in. The thought of dating Yuuri has crossed Victor’s mind more than once, but he’s never allowed himself to fully consider it. 

 

Christophe smiles as he downs the rest of his wine. “There obviously is, and that’s okay. I’m more than happy just being friends with you, Victor.” 

 

Victor sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Thanks Chris. I’m lucky to have you as a friend.” 

 

“Ha, that you are. Shall we head back?” 

 

Victor graciously pays the bill and they step out into the street. Tokyo is brightly lit even at this time of the evening, neon lights glaring against his tired eyes. 

 

As the hotel comes into view, Christophe pauses, fixing Victor with a long look. 

 

“Goodnight, Victor. I hope that you get him,” he says kindly. 

 

Victor remains outside as Christophe walks away, tilting his head back to look at the sky. Yuuri said they should be able to see the comet tonight, but there’s nothing to see. Even the stars are muted by the light pollution of Tokyo. 

  
Come to think of it, there’d been no mention of any such thing on the news yesterday. A puzzle for another day, then. He’ll leave Yuuri a note in the journal about it. 

 

His phone feels heavy in his hand. He could leave a note, or he could just call Yuuri and ask. The number has been memorized for a while now, entered in his phone for safe keeping. 

 

Victor takes a deep breath and hits the call button before he can think better of it. The phone rings and rings and rings until he finally gets an automated message that the number he’s trying to reach is either disconnected or out of range. 

 

Huh. That’s weird. Guess he’ll have to find out next time they switch. 

 

For now, sleep sounds amazing.

 

_ [St. Petersburg, February 2017] _

 

They don’t switch again. Victor waits and hopes, but since the NHK Trophy, they haven’t switched. 

 

Every morning he wakes up to Makkachin and the familiarity of his own neutral colored ceiling. Hasetsu is gone from his life as if it was never there at all. The journal entries remain, however. 

 

Victor has taken to skimming them before bed as a reminder to himself that it was real. 

 

He frets, too, about why they suddenly stopped switching. It ended as it had begun: very abruptly. Was that just the natural conclusion to this strange phenomenon? 

 

His gut says something else is responsible and he hopes it’s wrong. If the switching stopped because something bad happened to Yuuri… 

 

Victor would go hunt him down this instant were he not in the middle of the skating season. He can’t just up and run away, not when he has the Grand Prix Finals and Worlds to win— and he  _ will  _ win. He knows he can. 

 

With his new programs and the inspiration Yuuri has given him, winning is easily within reach. 

 

When it’s over he’ll book a plane ticket and not even Yakov will be able to stop him. The off season is his to use as he sees fit, after all. If Yakov is that insistent, he’ll just skate at the Ice Castle Hasetsu. 

 

It’s not as if he hadn’t planned on it anyway. Victor wants to skate and experience it for himself.

 

Until then, he’ll buckle down and work as hard as he can. Of course, he won’t forget to water the plant, either. 

 

_  [Japan, April 2017] _

 

Life goes on over the next few months, and it’s because of Christophe that he finds himself in Japan. 

 

**Christoph-bae:** do this exhibition skate in Japan with me [link]

 

**Vicky:** sure sure, I was planning on going to Japan after Worlds anyway

 

**Christoph-bae:** going to Japan to get yo man?

 

**Christoph-bae:** my rhyming is impeccable isn’t it

  
**Vicky:** ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

 

**Vicky:** ANYWAY I’ll do the exhibition with you, and then I have other places to go

 

**Christoph-bae: <(￣ー￣)> ** uh huh.  

 

Victor is admittedly distracted and doesn’t bother to read up on the exhibition skate. It’s just a fundraiser, and he does a lot of those. 

 

He’s much more concerned with how he is going to get to Hasetsu. He has a vague idea of what prefecture it’s in, but beyond that he’s flying blind. 

 

Christophe greets him in the airport in Tokyo the week after Worlds wrap up. 

 

“So, are you ready for this?” his friend asks, kicking idly at the corner of Victor’s roller bag. 

 

“I didn’t actually look up the event,” Victor admits sheepishly. 

 

Christophe looks torn between irritation and amusement. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

 

“I’ll explain it to you on the car ride over. Let’s drop your bags off at the hotel. The skate is tomorrow afternoon, and the banquet following it in the evening.” 

 

Victor hums to show that he’s listening but gets caught up in his own thoughts. 

 

“Victor,” Christophe prods as they get settled in the cab. 

 

“Yes?” 

 

“Just making sure I had your attention,” Christophe huffs. “The exhibition is a fundraiser and a memorial kind of wrapped up into one. It’s meant to commemorate one of their up-and-coming skaters who was killed three years ago when that comet crashed into his home town and nearly wiped everyone out.” 

 

Something about that tickles at Victor’s memory. He brushes it away.

 

“A comet huh,” he muses, shifting his gaze out the window. 

 

He’d taken interest in a comet several years ago, but he’s long since forgotten about it. 

 

*

 

The exhibition skate goes smoothly. Victor’s coming off winning both the Grand Prix and Worlds, so this is a cakewalk. Christophe looks good as always, and the day moves quickly. 

 

Dinner is… eye-opening. 

 

Someone gets a microphone before food is served, and Victor politely turns his attention to them. 

 

“Today we have gathered to remember a young skater and a town lost to disaster. Katsuki Yuuri had the potential to be one of our best, and we are heartbroken at a life cut so short. We also mourn the hundreds lost in Hasetsu when the comet crashed to earth unexpectedly three years ago.” 

 

Victor freezes, the blood running away from his face. Yuuri. Hasetsu. Three years ago. 

 

None of it and all of it makes sense, a cacophony of contradictions in his head. He tries to take a breath but it feels like he’s breathing through a straw. 

 

“Victor,” Christophe repeats his name insistently. 

 

Dimly Victor registers Christophe’s hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Victor, are you okay?"

 

“I think I need to step out for a moment,” he says distantly. 

 

Christophe hauls him out of his chair and they leave the ball room. The hallway is mercifully quiet—so quiet that Victor can hear his own ragged breathing. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Christophe asks as Victor braces himself against a wall. 

 

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was Yuuri. He can’t be dead, Chris,” he whispers. 

 

“Did you not know?” Christophe asks, astounded. “I know you don’t always keep up with skating news, but this was huge.”

 

“I don’t think I was paying attention at the time,” Victor admits, and hates himself for it. “I don’t understand.” 

 

“What isn’t there to understand? No one expected the comet to break off like that, there wasn’t enough warning for an evacuation.” 

 

“When…?” Victor asks, desperate. 

 

Christophe frowns. “November 30 th , 2013. The comet was visible even in Russia, Victor. Surely you remember.” 

 

They stopped switching at the end of November, after the NHK Trophy. 

 

Frantically, Victor digs out his phone to check the dates on the journal entries. They’re there one moment, and then before his eyes the symbols blur and disappear completely. 

 

“No!” he cries, and Christophe grabs ahold of his arm. 

 

“What’s gotten into you?!?”

 

“The entries… they’re gone.” 

 

“Entries?”

 

Victor clutches his phone so hard his fingers start to hurt. Will Christophe even believe him?

 

“Yuuri and I were switching bodies. It started in September and went all the way until the NHK Trophy and then just… stopped.”

 

Christophe stares at him. “Switching bodies. You mean… you were him, and he was you?”

 

“A couple days a week, yes. Not every day, but enough that we kept journals on our phones so we’d know what was going on,” Victor sighs. “The entries have all disappeared now. They were there one second, and now they’re not.” 

 

Everything of Yuuri is gone, including Yuuri himself. 

 

“September through November… Victor, how were you switching with him, if he was already dead?” 

 

Victor twists the cord around his finger anxiously. “I don’t know. I’m going to Hasetsu, and I’m going to figure this out. He can’t… he can’t just be gone.” 

 

His voice catches, the bitter taste of tears rising in his throat. Yuuri can’t just be  _ gone. _

 

Christophe’s arm slides around his shoulder, pulling him in close. “I’m going with you.”

 

“Chris…” 

 

“I don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m not letting you go by yourself,” Christophe says firmly. 

 

Victor’s shoulders shake with the effort of keeping himself together. “Then we’re going to need some plane tickets.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :))))))) I guess this is roughly the halfway point of this fic?


	10. Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, chunky, back to back Victor chapter!

_ [Hasetsu, April 2017] _

 

A short flight and a train ride finds them in the town that neighbors Hasetsu. The station in Hasetsu is no longer operational, as not enough people have rebuilt for it to be sustainable, so there’s no direct way there.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Christophe asks as they wander through the town, looking for someone willing to drive them to Hasetsu.

 

Victor doesn’t spare him a glance. He’s been clenching his jaw so hard that it’s starting to ache, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. 

 

Christophe sighs, allowing them to walk another block in silence before he tries again. 

 

“Where did that cord on your finger come from?”

 

“This? A fan gave it to me a couple years ago, though I don’t remember exactly when,” Victor answers, distractedly rubbing at the ring finger on his right hand.

 

A thoughtful hum precedes the next question. Now that Christophe has managed to get him talking, he isn’t giving up so easily. 

 

“If you guys were switching, does that mean I’ve talked to Yuuri?”

 

Victor smiles wryly. “Yes, over text at the very least. The date was his idea. I think it was payback for me pushing him to go train in Detroit with Cialdini.” 

 

The smile drops. Yuuri died before he even got the chance to take the step that Victor was sure would make him a star on the world stage. 

 

Christophe, noticing his mood shift, gives him a gentle bump with his shoulder. “Or maybe he just didn’t want you to be lonely.” 

 

Victor laughs shakily. “He did buy me a plant, my apartment must have been too empty.” 

 

“He sounds nice,” Christophe says kindly. 

 

“He is. Was.” 

 

Breathing out harshly, Victor scrubs a hand over his face to try and pull himself together. His hair is a mess, and the pair of them are probably unrecognizable after essentially pulling an all-nighter. 

 

“How about we grab something to eat,” he suggests, and Christophe humors him. 

 

It’s thanks to their stop in a tiny little eatery that they find someone to drive them to Hasetsu. The owner’s husband is a former resident, and the sadness sits heavy in his eyes.

 

With the gratuitous use of google translate, they manage to have a semblance of a conversation in the car. 

 

“You are skaters?” he asks, and Victor nods. 

 

“I skate for Russia, and Christophe for Switzerland.” 

 

The man nods emphatically, keeping his eyes on the road. “Katsuki-kun was our pride and joy.” 

 

Victor swallows hard. “He was going to be incredible.” 

 

Silence falls for the remainder of the trip, and Victor feels like he’s drowning in it. The kind man lets them out, promising to wait until they’re ready.

 

With a soft thanks, Victor steps out of the car and has the breath stolen right out of his lungs. He knew it was going to be bad. The pictures he’d googled on the train had given him an idea, but standing here…

 

Half of Hasetsu is almost completely in ruins. It takes Victor a moment, standing on the remains of the pavement, to place where he is. If he walked a few blocks south, it’d put him near Minako’s studio. Five blocks east to the Ice Castle Hasetsu. 

 

As far as his eyes can see is destruction. 

 

He sinks slowly to his knees, clenching the front of his shirt with white-knuckled fingers. 

 

“I don’t understand,” he whispers, voice hoarse with the effort of holding back tears. “I don’t understand… I was here just five months ago.” 

 

Christophe’s hand finds its way onto his shoulder as a thought occurs to Victor. 

 

“The rest of the Katsuki family… Yuuko, Nishigori, Minako… I don’t know what happened to them,” he says in horror. 

 

The only one he knows for certain is gone is Yuuri, but the rest of them… 

 

“Let’s check the library back in town, I think they have the most detailed account of the disaster there,” Chris says quietly.

 

Victor drags himself upright, spurred on by the desperate need to know.

 

*

 

They spend most of the afternoon poring over the records. It doesn’t take long for Victor to find a full account of the dead. 

 

He drags his finger down the page, scanning frantically until his eyes settle on the characters he’s learned represent Yuuri’s surname. Yuuri, his parents, and Mari are listed as dead. 

 

He checks Minako next, and then Yuuko, and then Nishigori. All amongst the dead. 

 

Tears drip down his cheeks but he continues on, skimming translated accounts of the disaster. The whole town had been gathered for a festival when the comet split apart and struck, destroying nearly everything on impact. 

 

Experts on the matter have firmly stated that there was no way of knowing that the comet would split like that. Most consider it fortunate that it struck an area with a lower population density than somewhere like Tokyo. 

 

That isn’t any consolation to Victor, who cares about a disproportionate amount of people in this town. It isn’t any consolation to the few survivors, either. 

 

Efforts to rebuild are already in the works, he reads on, though funding is slow to trickle in. Hasetsu is known for its hot springs, onsens, as Victor is used to hearing them called. But business had slowed some in the years leading up to the disaster. 

 

Rebuilding isn’t as urgent as Victor thinks it should be. 

 

Victor might have stayed there reading till his eyes were bloodshot, had Christophe not dragged him away and forced him to eat. 

 

They prepare for bed in the small hotel they’d found, both weary. 

 

“I’m sorry for dragging you along for this,” Victor sighs, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. “It’s crazy, I know it is.”

 

Christophe scoffs, “You didn’t drag me anywhere, I brought myself.” 

 

He wisely doesn’t comment on how insane Victor’s story sounds. Victor smothers his face into the pillow and hangs tightly to the slipping memory of Yuuri’s face. Why would the universe be so cruel as to give him a person to love, only to snatch him away?

 

*

 

Victor wakes early with a sense of urgency. It burns through him, pulling him out from under the warm covers.    
  
Christophe sleeps on peacefully, and Victor lets him be. He dresses, pausing only to scrawl a note on the hotel stationary. 

 

_ Chris, _

 

_ There’s still answers I need to find. Please go back without me.  _

 

_ I’m sorry, and thank you. _

 

_ Victor _

 

It’s not what Christophe deserves, not after he’d come all this way on Victor’s whim, but… this is something he needs to see through. He shoves his shoes on and heads out the door. 

 

The universe is on his side, because their ride from yesterday is also awake, and willing to drive him. 

 

“You feel a connection,” the man comments quietly, dropping a bundle of thoughtfully packaged onigiri in Victors lap. 

 

“Yes.” 

 

Victor insists the man doesn’t wait for him this time, as he intends to spend the entirety of the day here. The man shakes his head but waves as he leaves, a familiar sadness in his eyes. 

 

“Arigato,” Victor whispers, and faces Hasetsu. 

 

The better part of the day is spent wandering the ruins and what remains, visiting haunts that had become familiar in his three months switching with Yuuri. Though some damage was sustained, the coastline is mostly intact, and Victor spends a good while staring out over the waves. 

 

When he finally gets the courage to go to the remains of Yu-Topia Katsuki, he finds it’s not as bad off as it could be. Most of the building remains and the springs are untouched, bubbling softly in the silence. 

 

Victor’s knowledge of geology is lacking, to put it kindly, and he wonders exactly how deep the springs originate from that they still remain. The water sounds like hope, which is how Victor knows he’s losing it. 

 

Water shouldn’t sound like anything but water. But the persistence of the springs, the possibility to rebuild… that’s hope. 

 

The sun has climbed high in the sky, so he takes a break, leaning against a bit of debris while he eats the onigiri. 

 

Memories so fresh he can taste them play on a reel in his head as he resumes wandering. It’s an old one, however, that finds him a block from where Ice Castle Hasetsu stood and shocks him into stillness. 

 

Yuuri’s voice whispers softly in his ear as the day wears into afternoon. 

 

“Victor… Victor don’t you remember? My name—my name is Yuuri!” 

 

Victor pauses on the edge of the ruins of the rink and closes his eyes. What did he forget?

 

It comes back in flickering pieces at first, fragments that he has to separate and place. The NHK Trophy, except not this year. He recognizes it as 2013 only because of the costume he’s wearing— something bright and sparkly that no longer fits his image. 

 

But that’s not what’s important. What stands out to him most is dark hair and blue glasses, his name spoken by a familiar voice. 

 

That’s—that’s Yuuri. Three years in the past, he met Yuuri. He remembers now, the look of absolute heartbreak on Yuuri’s face when Victor failed to recognize him. Yuuri clearly knows him though, it’s apparent in his face. 

 

Victor’s greeted legions of fans, and none of them have ever looked at him like that. His eyes fly open and drop to the cord tied neatly around his finger. 

 

Yuuri gave it to him. Yuuri, who found him in 2013. 

 

It makes more sense than it doesn’t. This whole time, Yuuri was in 2013, and Victor in 2016. Victor’s knowledge of geology is negligent, and his knowledge of quantum physics is nonexistent. 

 

He has no idea how two people in two different times could switch bodies, and he’s more than willing to chalk it up to magic. 

 

What does the universe want, then? There has to be a reason for this.

 

On a hunch, Victor walks forward until he’s standing in the middle of where the rink should be. Letting impulse drive him, he brings his right hand to his mouth and presses his lips against the cord. 

 

Everything goes dark and Victor doesn’t fight it as he spirals downward toward an unknown destination.

 

_ [Hasetsu, November 30, 2013, alternate timeline] _

 

Victor’s vision clears in a very different looking Hasetsu. He’s standing on the path Yuuri normally took to school, bundled up in a way he typically doesn’t bother with. Yu-Topia is only a hundred yards behind him, standing proudly against the cold weather. 

 

He’s Yuuri again. Yuuri is alive. 

 

“Thank god,” he breathes. 

 

Victor thinks he understands better now what his purpose is. This is 2013, before the comet hits. After reading through all the records, he knows the precise impact time and location. He can save Yuuri, and he can save all of Hasetsu. 

 

Spinning on his heel, he runs back toward the onsen and practically bowls Mari over. 

 

“Yuuri!” she scolds, setting them both upright. “What are you doing? You’re going to be late to school!”

 

Victor hugs her, effectively shutting her up. 

 

Mari pulls back first, holding him at arm’s length and squinting suspiciously. “Victor?” 

 

“Is it that easy to tell?” 

 

“Yuuri was upset this morning,” Mari says bluntly. 

 

Oh, the NHK Trophy short program was yesterday. Victor winces. 

 

“We don’t have time for that. I need you to evacuate your parents and the guests to the castle before sunset tonight.” 

 

“What? Are you crazy?” Mari snorts. 

 

Victor grabs ahold of her hand. “Please, Mari-neechan. The comet is going to break apart tonight and strike Hasetsu. Almost everyone will die if they don’t evacuate.” 

 

She stares at him, and he’s not sure if it’s the desperation in his tone, or the tears pricking at his eyes that convince her. 

 

“You’re from the future,” she states, putting things together far faster than Victor had. 

 

“2016. Well, 2017. My body is in Hasetsu right now, the Hasetsu of 2017 and Mari…”

 

The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow. 

 

“Alright, fine. It’ll take some convincing, but I think I can get them to go. See what you can do about the rest of the town,” she directs. 

 

Victor nods, even though he has no idea how he’s going to instigate an evacuation . Mari pushes him out the door and on instinct his feet carry him to the rink. 

 

When he arrives, Yuuko is cleaning skates and Nishigori is running the Zamboni on the ice. 

 

“Yuuri-kun, don’t you have school?” she asks, confused. 

 

“I need your help, Nishigori’s too,” he says urgently. 

 

The three of them gather in the locker room, and Victor explains everything all over again as he’d told Mari. He leaves out the fact that he’s Victor, not Yuuri, as it will only complicate things.

 

“Are you sure, Yuuri-kun?” Yuuko asks hesitantly. 

 

He can see the doubt in her eyes, and Nishigori looks understandably skeptical. 

 

“I swear it on my life.”

 

Nishigori’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “Then we have to do something.”

 

Victor sags in relief, grateful for the solid wood of the bench beneath him and the friends beside him.

 

“How, though?” Nishigori continues. “No one is going to listen to us, not without solid evidence, and we don’t have any.” 

 

“We’ll make them listen,” Yuuko says fiercely. 

 

Her hands are clenched at her sides, and Victor instinctively wants to lean away from the aura she’s radiating. Yuuko is not one to be trifled with, a fact often disguised by her sweet face. 

 

“There’s the broadcast system?” Victor offers. 

 

He’d taken note of it only because it was novel to him. St. Petersburg has nothing of the sort, and he thought it odd the first time a disembodied voice had crackled out over the streets. 

 

Nishigori hums thoughtfully. “That would get the message out.” 

 

Yuuko digs out a piece of paper and starts scribbling. They spend the morning and the better part of the afternoon coming up with a viable plan.

 

Victor squirms in his seat as the time flies by. If he doesn’t get this right, hundreds of people will die. 

 

“Yuuri-kun,” Yuuko slings an affectionate arm around his shoulder. “It’s going to be fine.” 

 

“I still think we should use the construction explosives. It’ll scare people into moving,” Nishigori grumbles. 

 

“The flashbangs will be fine. Timing it exactly with pulling the emergency shut down for the power will have the same effect,” Yuuko disagrees. 

 

Relieved that Yuuko is here to keep them sensible, Victor lets himself lean into the comforting touch. 

 

They wolf down a snack not long after and then split up to fulfill their tasks. The town is already gearing up for the festival, and it’s easy to blend in with the energetic crowd. 

 

Yuuko heads for the broadcasting station, where an unwitting friend accepted her request to have a look around. 

 

Victor and Nishigori bike up the slope to where the power grid is fenced off. The backpack slung carelessly over Victor’s shoulder holds the flashbangs, though it’s been agreed upon that Nishigori will be setting them off. Yuuri apparently has a poor track record with explosive things. 

 

This leaves Victor to trigger the emergency shut down on the power grid. The transformer is fenced in, but it’s nothing for an athlete to scale, considering they neglected the barbed wire on top. 

  
Really, it’s rather easy. 

 

“It should be on the far side, over on that lower part,” Nishigori calls, fireworks in hand. 

 

It takes him a moment, but Victor locates the emergency shut down lever. 

 

“On the count of three?”

 

Nishigori nods and counts back, striking a match for the flashbangs. When they hit one, he sets them off and Victor shuts the grid down. 

 

He scrambles back over the fence, the sun slowly sinking behind Nishigori’s grim face. They set off back down the hill, Yuuko’s voice drifting up to them from the speakers below. 

 

“This is an emergency broadcast. There has been an explosion, all citizens should make for the castle, the designated evacuation point.” 

 

It repeats as they ditch the bike and run onward, the town now dim without the lanterns and street lights. Magic hour, Victor recalls. 

 

_ Oh _ . There’s somewhere he needs to be. 

 

“Start calling the alarm, there’s something I have to do!” he tells Nishigori, and bolts. 

 

The comet is visible overhead now, deceptively beautiful as Victor sprints down crowded streets. Ice Castle Hasetsu is empty when he staggers inside, nearly colliding with the boards ringing the ice.

 

“Yuuri!” he calls out, his voice swallowed by the silence. 

 

The rink is rapidly darkening, the sunlight that had previously streamed through the windows fading to a soft purple. Magic hour. If something is going to give, it will be here, and it will be now. This is exactly where he left his own body in the future.

 

“Victor!” Yuuri’s voice warbles and Victor spins, looking frantically around.

 

“Yuuri! Are you there?” he tries again, running along the edge of the boards. 

 

His own name is echoed back at him until suddenly, it’s close. Almost as if Yuuri is standing right in front of him. 

 

“Yuuri?” he breathes, lifting a tentative hand. 

 

“Victor, I’m here!” Yuuri answers, and Victor turns as he feels it. 

 

_ It truly is magic hour _ , Victor thinks in awe as Yuuri flickers into view. He blinks, and he’s back in his own body, gazing at Yuuri properly for the first time. 

 

“ _ Yuuri,” _ he says reverently. 

 

“Victor, is it really you?” Yuuri whispers, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

 

“It is,” Victor promises with his heart in his throat. He takes Yuuri’s elbows gently in his hands, because to not touch him when he’s so close is too much to ask. “It is. I came to find you. It was a long way, my Yuuri. But I made it.” 

 

“Oh,” Yuuri says softly. “I’m glad you did.” 

 

Victor lifts a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheek, but Yuuri leans back, staring at his hand.

 

“Is that—” he questions, and Victor realizes he’s talking about his ring. 

 

Carefully, he slides it off of his finger and tucks it into Yuuri’s palm. 

 

“I guess it’s time to give this back to you,” he says sheepishly. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you then, but I’ve held onto it for three years for you.” 

 

Yuuri turns it over in his palm and then holds out his wrist. “Will you tie it on for me?” 

 

Victor does so gently, and when he secures it, Yuuri smiles at him. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

And god, he looks so beautiful in the fading light that Victor is jarred back to reality. 

 

He grabs Yuuri’s hand. “Listen to me carefully, okay? The comet is going to split apart and destroy Hasetsu, you have to evacuate everyone to the castle. Yuuko and Nishigori have already gotten started, but they need help.” 

 

“But—” Yuuri starts, and Victor shakes his head. 

 

“Trust me.”

 

Yuuri’s mouth sets into a determined line. “I’ll do it, don’t worry Victor.” 

 

Victor prays with every ounce of his being that he’s right. They’re running out of time—the sun is nearly gone. 

 

He rummages through his pockets and finds the permanent marker he always carries to sign things for fans. “Here, I’ll write my name on your hand, and then you can do yours on mine, so we don’t forget.” 

 

“Okay,” Yuuri says softly, holding patiently still as Victor scrawls the characters on his palm. 

 

His eyes never once leave Victor’s face, drinking him in. 

 

“Now you,” Victor holds out the pen. 

 

Yuuri uncaps it with the tiniest smile and takes Victor’s hand. The pen tickles his hand for a single stroke, only to clatter to the ground as its holder vanishes. Yuuri is gone. 

 

In a rush, every molecule of air leaves Victor’s lungs. 

 

“Yuuri,” he says to himself. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri.” 

 

The ruins of Hasetsu are stark around him, and he can feel it slipping from his fingers as surely as he can feel the tears rolling down his cheeks.

 

“Katsuki Yuuri,” he repeats because the moment he stops saying it, he’ll lose it. The single, meaningless line on his palm mocks him. “Yuuri. Yuu—” 

 

And it’s gone. 

 

“Your name… what was it?” 

 

And like the tide recedes, he forgets. Yuuri’s name. His purpose for coming to Hasetsu. It all pulls away until he’s left in the ruins with nothing but the tears on his face. 

 

Sluggishly he wipes them away, staring at the moisture on his fingers. Something empty makes its home in his chest, and he rearranges himself to accommodate it. 

 

“Why am I here?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 is hella short because of how the POVs are set up, so you guys will get chapter 11 Monday, chapter 12 Tuesday to make up for the shortness, and then chapter 13 like usual on Thursday! :)


	11. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short lil Yuuri POV, a bigger Victor chapter will follow tomorrow as promised!

_ [Hasetsu, November 30, 2013, alternate timeline] _

 

Yuuri reels backwards as the pen vanishes from his fingers, taking Victor with it. 

 

One second, he was there, and the next he was gone. Borrowed time, snatched from underneath them. 

 

Yuuri wants to linger on the infinitesimal chance that Victor will be back. But he knows, deep in his gut, that he won’t be. Besides, it’s almost completely dark now. He’s running out of time. 

 

“Victor, Victor Nikiforov,” he chants to himself as he takes of running. 

 

His path is lit only by the stars and the comet itself, and he stumbles more than once on his sprint. The name is a mantra in his head, beating in time with his sneakers smacking against the ground. 

 

It beats in time with his heart, growing faint as the road stretches out in front of him. 

 

Yuuri’s losing the struggle, he can sense it. Victor’s name, and his existence as a person rather than an idol in Yuuri’s life are fading. Yuuri sobs Victor’s name once more and then it’s gone entirely, wiped from existence. 

 

A loose piece of pavement catches Yuuri’s foot and he goes tumbling forward. The landing knocks the wind out of him and uncurls his hand on impact.

 

Written on his palm are three words in English. He blinks back tears, only for them to pour down his face in earnest when he understands. 

 

_ I love you, _ the letters say, stark against his pale skin. 

 

“Stupid,” Yuuri says through his tears. “This won’t help me find you.” 

 

He drags himself up, however, because he has a purpose. Because somewhere out there, there’s a person who loves him, and expects him to survive. 

 

Yuuri staggers onwards, drying his face as the main street of Hasetsu comes into view. Nishigori, who’s trying to get people to move, spots him. 

 

“Yuuri-kun? Why are you crying?” he asks, bewildered. 

 

“I forgot his name. I forgot him,” Yuuri says hoarsely. 

 

Nishigori is understandably confused. “Who? I have no idea what you’re talking about, but we need to hurry.” 

 

Yuuko’s voice, which has been echoing over the speakers for some time now, abruptly cuts off. 

 

“There is no fire, please remain calm and stay where you are,” a deeper voice replaces it. 

 

Nishigori curses under his breath and starts off in the direction of the radio station. Yuuri hurries after him, grateful for all the time he’s spent doing off ice training. It’s the only reason he’s able to keep running. 

 

He knew what he needed to do, but it didn’t prepare Yuuri for the tang of terror on his tongue. He’s always feared failure — it’s what has held him back most as a skater.

 

This is worse. Failure here means everyone in this town he’s called home dies. 

 

Yuuri glances up, and the splitting in the comet is apparent now. He catches hold of Nishigori’s sleeve, pulling him to a stop. 

 

“Yuuko will be fine, we just have to tell them,” he says. “They can see it now, it’s not so hard to believe.” 

 

Nishigori stares, and then turns back towards the crowd. His voice rings out over the din, clear and stern. He’s going to be a good father, if they make it out of this. 

 

“The comet is splitting apart! We’re at risk for getting hit with debris, so please evacuate to the castle!”

 

His words are rapidly drowned out by the blaring of the emergency sirens. 

 

That gets people moving. In their panic they push and shove. Yuuri hears someone scream, and looks up once more. The first fragments have started plummeting towards Earth, parodies of beloved shooting stars. 

 

Nishigori grabs his wrist and drags him along toward the castle, but Yuuri can’t tear his eyes away from the sky. 

 

He hopes they’re not too late. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the third of this monster that deals with YOI canon... but with a twist or seven ;)


	12. Victor

_ [St. Petersburg, April 2017] _

 

Victor leaves Hasetsu behind once he sets foot on home soil, locking the door and throwing away the key. 

 

If he can’t remember why it was so important to him, then he can’t afford to fret over it. His skating needs to take priority. The feelings he’s suppressing will no doubt come out in his choreography— his preferred way of expressing himself. 

 

And if he quietly donates toward the restoration of Hasetsu, well, that’s for him to know. 

 

He skimmed the article about the town on the plane home because he’s a sucker for stories about the good of humanity. Hasetsu is a miracle in that every single person survived the comet that obliterated half the town three years ago. 

 

All thanks to one young man and his friends, who refused to give their names to outside media. 

 

The three of them, responsible for evacuating the whole town and wanting no credit for it. Victor can already see the program blooming from it. 

 

There’s one last thing he has to do before the door is locked for good, however. 

 

It’s both an impulsive decision and not, because he’s been thinking about it for a while. Frankly, his hairdresser seems more distressed about it than he is.

 

“Are you sure about this?” she frets, smoothing down the silver strands.

 

Victor smiles reassuringly at her in the mirror. “I am, I need a change. And if I miss it, it will always grow back.” 

 

She still looks mournful, but her hands are steady as she sets to work. Victor closes his eyes as silver strands drift to the floor. He doesn’t regret it, not fully, but it’s the end of an era.

 

His youthful, naive days will get swept away with the snipped strands. There will be backlash amongst his fans, probably. It’s been his trademark for so long. But the skating world has always turned their noses up at his unusual hair. 

 

Victor tells himself that this is not a concession. He needs this, in a way that he can’t quite explain. 

 

When he leaves the salon significantly lighter, it feels like shedding an old skin and donning a new one. His rinkmates and Yakov don’t take it as well. 

 

Yakov’s eyebrows reach his hairline, and he grumbles, “Whatever this is about, don’t let it affect your skating.” 

 

Georgi has far less tact. “Are you going through a bad break up?” 

 

Victor has the wild urge to laugh. “No Georgi, I just wanted to try something new.”

 

Georgi’s eyebrows express his doubt well, but Victor doesn’t bend. Georgi is nearer to the truth than he’s comfortable with. 

 

Victor is mourning someone he doesn’t remember. 

 

Yakov barks at them to get going and Georgi is forced to let him be. Victor takes to the ice and lets it swallow him whole. 

  
  


_ [St. Petersburg, December 2019] _

 

“I’m really going to bring it for Worlds,” Christophe laments, swaying in and out of the frame of their Skype call. 

 

“Oh?” Victor smiles in spite of himself. 

 

They’ve only been home in their respective countries for less than twenty-four hours, and Christophe is already complaining. He’s also a bit tipsy. 

 

The break is deserved, silver at the Grand Prix Final is nothing to sneeze at.

 

“You don’t even look that happy about winning!” Christophe complains, glaring through his obscenely thick eyelashes. “I’ll get you yet!” 

 

Victor puts a conscious effort into looking happier. “I am, I swear! It’s just the jet lag!” 

 

Christophe is right. Three consecutive Grand Prix Final golds is something he should be excited about. The skating world is watching to see if he can defend his title at Worlds as well. 

 

He just feels… a bit numb about the whole thing. It will pass, he knows it will once he gets back on the ice. 

 

“Victor?” Christophe prompts him. 

 

_ Hm _ . Maybe he isn’t as drunk as Victor originally thought.

 

“You okay? I haven’t seen you like this since that exhibition in Japan, and you never told me everything about that, either.”

 

Victor fakes a smile. He’s practiced at it now, having been putting on camera-worthy smiles since he was a teen. Recently, he’s caught himself doing it in his daily life too—putting the face on for Yakov and the others.

 

“Just tired, promise. And Hasetsu? I felt drawn to it, so I went,” he shrugs. 

 

It’s the only explanation he can give right now. He’s not going to burden Christophe with his mood. 

 

Christophe squints suspiciously at him. “If you say so. Get some sleep then.” 

 

“Yessir,” Victor teases, and they go back and forth a few more times before one of them finally hangs up.

 

Victor rolls over, setting his laptop on his night stand. The room is dark except for the lamp, which he reaches over to switch off. 

 

“Makka,” he calls softly, and the poodle comes obediently to curl up at his side. 

 

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he buries his face into Makkachin’s soft fur. Twenty-four isn’t old. He has a lot of skating ahead of him, a lot more things he wants to show the world. 

 

It feels significant, though. 

 

Three consecutive wins means they’ll expect more and more from him. Victor’s up for the challenge, but he’s afraid that it will become hollow. 

 

The day he stops being able to surprise his audience will be a dark one. 

 

The thought haunts him into sleep, and when he wakes the following morning, it’s with tears drying on his cheeks. 

  
  


_ [Vancouver, December 5, 2021] _

 

A fifth Grand Prix Final gold. 

 

It’s no longer a surprise, or an accomplishment. Only Christophe nips at his heels, but even that’s not enough to keep Victor motivated. 

 

Yuri Plisetsky is a grumpy presence at his side, unreceptive to Victor’s well-intended advice. He’s a feisty thing, and maybe he will provide a challenge next season when he comes up from juniors. 

 

That is, if Victor can drag up the inspiration for new programs. As of right now, he just wants to go hide in his hotel room until the banquet. 

 

A glimpse of blue catches his eye and he turns, making eye contact. 

 

Warm brown reflects astonishment back at him, and Victor’s brain stutters. He has so many questions, starting with, ‘what is your name?’ and ‘why does looking at you feel like coming home?’

 

His brain is reeling desperately on autopilot and manges none of this.

 

“Commemorative photo?” he blurts.

 

And  _ oh _ that was the wrong thing, because the handsome young man draws his shoulders up and turns away. There’s clamoring around him from his crew, but the man walks away, leaving Victor standing agast. 

 

Something solid connects with Victor’s bicep, causing him to flinch. 

 

“You dumbass,” Yuri hisses. 

 

_ What now?  _ Victor wonders, because Yuri is almost always irritated with him. But Yakov also looks disapproving. His confusion must be evident, because Yuri decides to educate him.

 

“That was Katsuki Yuuri, Japan’s ace!” he snaps. 

 

There are implications in that sentence Victor should be dealing with, but all he can hear is  _ Katsuki Yuuri _ . 

 

It’s a name. Victor knows lots of names, has encountered more people than he can ever truly comprehend. Katsuki Yuuri. No name has ever sent such shockwaves through him. He twists to look, but it’s owner is long gone. 

 

Yuri tries to get his attention back with his fuming and spitting, but Victor excuses himself to his room with a plastic smile. He’d rather deal with this unbalance in private. 

 

*

 

“Chris, this is so boring, why did you make me come,” Victor whines, leaning heavily on his friend. 

 

“Yakov made you come,” Christophe points out. “And you’re the gold medalist, you should be here.” 

 

Victor pouts but relents. Christophe lets the silence sit for a while and Victor feels inclined to fill it. 

 

“How’s your new man?” 

 

Christophe smiles, and it looks softer on him than it usually does. “I think this is gonna be the one.” 

 

Wow. Christophe has never been shy with his affection, but Victor thought he’d have to wait until they were old and gray for him to settle down.

 

“Yeah? I’m happy for you then.”

 

He means it. Christophe is one of the few people Victor’s gotten close with over the years, and he wants him to be happy.

 

Humming, Christophe slides him a look. “I hope you get there too, you deserve it Victor.” 

 

It’s more serious than Victor wants to be so he just laughs, searching for a subject change. A face flashes across his mind, so he asks the question he should have years ago. 

 

“What can you tell me about Katsuki Yuuri?”

 

He’d wanted to google the other skater when he got to his hotel room, but had ended up video-calling Makkachin instead. 

 

Christophe tilts his head. “He’s nice. I’ve skated against him in multiple competitions and we talk occasionally.” 

 

He shifts his weight, effectively dislodging Victor, who is forced to stand on his own. 

 

“Why do you care? You could just go talk to him, if you want to know so bad.”

 

That’s true. And Victor wants to, quite desperately. But when he looks up, Yuuri is handily downing more champagne than Victor’s ever seen anyone drink. 

 

“Um,” he hedges, and Christophe looks over as well. 

 

“Oof. Well he might be more chatty now?” Christophe offers. “He’s normally pretty shy.” 

 

‘More chatty’ turns out to be the understatement of the century. Katsuki Yuuri is a whirlwind that even Yuri can’t escape. 

 

Victor isn’t much better off. The moment Yuuri lays hands on him, he’s a goner. Yuuri is beautiful and ethereal, but that’s not why Victor trusts him when he drops Victor into a dip. 

 

He doesn’t have a reasonable explanation for why he trusts Yuuri with his life, and it’s not the alcohol either. It’s a gut feeling that says  _ I know you _ and  _ I trust you to catch me when I fall _ . Nothing about it is rational. 

 

As far as he knows, Victor has never met this man in his life. His heart says different. 

 

And Yuuri, bright-eyed and far too graceful for someone drunk off their ass seems to know him. It’s enough for Victor, who falls asleep later that night with images of Yuuri dancing right into his future. 

 

In the morning, Yuuri is a ghost in the wind, and Victor can’t explain why the loss is bitterly familiar. 

  
  


_ [St. Petersburg, April 2022] _

 

_ I’m always searching for something… for someone. _

 

After a fifth gold at Worlds, Victor shuts down. He’s well and truly tired now. The fears of his twenty-four-year-old self have come to fruition. 

 

He can no longer surprise his audience, and winning gold feels like nothing. His twenty-seventh birthday has come and gone— a death knell for his career. 

 

And worst of all: Victor is uninspired. 

 

Victor dutifully fills Makkachin’s water bowl and waters his sole house plant before he curls up on the couch. 

 

Questions are already being asked about his plans for next season. Questions he doesn’t have the answers to. Everything is telling him to stop: his lack of inspiration and his aging body that feels the strains of skating more keenly as each year passes. 

 

But Victor is afraid. The ice has always been his home, and without it, he has nothing. If he stops he doesn’t know what will come after. 

 

Despair opens a yawning pit in his chest that he can’t close, stealing the warmth he’s guarded so jealously. On cue, Makkachin hops up in his lap, crushing him with sixty pounds of poodle. 

 

Victor hugs him close for a moment and lets Makkachin get comfortable in his lap, pulling up videos on Youtube as a distraction for himself. 

 

**Christoph-bae:** you gotta watch this [link]

 

**Vicky:** what?

 

**Christoph-bae:** just watch it

 

Victor wants to demand an answer, but suddenly his phone is blowing up with similar texts from friends and acquaintances alike. Even little Yuri texts him a link, and he never deigns speak to Victor outside of the rink. 

 

Apprehensively Victor clicks into one of them, and is startled by the caption. ‘Katsuki Yuuri attempts program by Victor Nikiforov.’

 

He’s not sure what to expect, but all his thoughts are blown away when Yuuri takes the starting position. Everything from there is like a dream. 

 

Yuuri is musical in the way he moves. However, that isn’t what has Victor white-knuckling his phone. It’s the way that Yuuri seems to understand exactly what Victor intended for the program. He understands, and reflects the longing back with his own yearning. 

 

Victor has felt like there was something missing for so long that it’s become a background ache, but this makes it as fresh as a knife wound.  _ Yuuri feels it too _ . Feels it, and paints it so heartbreakingly on the ice that it makes Victor wonder what else he’s capable of. 

 

Everything. Yuuri is capable of everything. 

 

The decision requires no thought. Victor gently moves Makkachin off his lap, retrieves his laptop, and has plane tickets booked even before he considers how Yakov will react. 

 

Not that it matters. Victor does what he wants, consequences be damned. His uncertainty has evaporated and he’s determined. 

 

There’s something about Yuuri that makes him think that maybe… maybe this is his chance at love. And even if the universe sees fit to rob him of that, he knows that his coaching can take Yuuri far beyond where he is now. That can be enough. 

  
  


_ [Hasetsu, April 2022] _

 

Even rebuilt and restored, Hasetsu feels familiar. 

 

Victor winds Makkachin’s leash securely around his wrist and takes a deep breath. If he closed his eyes, he thinks he might be able to see it as it was. 

 

But they have someone to see, and Victor is bursting with an uncountable number of emotions.  

 

“C’mon, Makka. Let’s go find Yuuri.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles madly* I should note here that while Kimi no na wa has a very ambiguous ending, I personally need a more satisfactory ending so there Will be cuddles and a more Yuuri on Ice canon resolution :)


	13. Yuuri

_ [Detroit, December 8, 2021] _

 

_ Sometimes I wake up crying without knowing why… _

 

Yuuri’s dreams slip away as the sun filters through the blinds, taking with them glimpses of blue eyes and muted silver, but leaving moisture on his face.

 

He rolls over and smothers his face into the pillow, ignoring the sound of the city bustling below. Phichit is puttering around in the kitchen, singing the King and the Skater theme song under his breath. 

 

Getting up is out of the question. 

 

Once he got back from Vancouver, he’d promptly dove into his bed and refused to come out. Celestino has called multiple times, and Yuuri has guiltily ignored every single one. 

 

The tiredness he feels is bone deep. Every moment of work he’s put in over the last five years—  gone to waste. A blown chance, and Victor… Victor had practically looked straight through him. 

 

So much for meeting his idol on the same level.

 

Yuuri desperately wishes for Vicchan. His pup was always so good at comforting him, but he blew that too.  _ Oh, Vicchan. _

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit’s quiet knock interrupts his wallowing. 

 

“Don’t want to,” Yuuri mumbles without even waiting to see what Phichit has to say. 

 

He hears Phichit sigh, and then the door cracks open. Phichit gives him a moment to say no, and when Yuuri does nothing, he comes fully into the room. 

 

“Here,” Phichit says softly, setting a steaming bowl of soup down on Yuuri’s desk.

 

Yuuri drags himself upright and scrubs at his eyes. His friend looks worried, which makes Yuuri feel bad. 

 

“Sorry,” he whispers, hanging his head. 

 

“Don’t,” Phichit frowns, reaching over to tap his forehead. “Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to mourn. I would be devastated if anything happened to my hamsters.” 

 

Shoulders hunched, Yuuri lets out a breath. “That’s no excuse for how bad my skating was.” 

 

The bed creaks as Phichit sits down beside him, draping an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders. 

 

“I know that there’s not anything I can say to convince you otherwise right now,” Phichit concedes. His arm tightens protectively around Yuuri. “But I’m here to tell you that we all love you no matter what, Yuuri.” 

 

Yuuri breathes out shakily and lets Phichit’s warmth blanket him. “Thanks, Phichit.” 

 

“Hmmm,” Phichit hums. “Eat your soup, and then we’re going to the rink.”

 

“But—” Yuuri protests. 

 

Phichit cuts him off with another squeeze. “There’s still Japanese Nationals, Yuuri. Don’t give up.” 

 

He wants to. He really just wants to step back and let his failure consume him. But Phichit is right, he still has Japanese Nationals, and hopefully Worlds after that. 

 

Maybe it’s not over yet.

  
  


_ [Hasetsu (rebuilt), April 2022] _

 

Yuuri wishes he was half as brave as his parents. If he were, he wouldn’t have crawled home in shame after his string of failures. 

 

Vancouver was bad, and his nerves were shot for Japanese Nationals because of it. He stumbled and Worlds slipped away, his confidence left in ruins.

 

His family is happy to have him home— he knows they are. Five years is a long time to be away, especially while Hasetsu was rebuilding. At least enough time has passed that few feel the need to call attention to his hero status in his own hometown. 

 

The problem that chafes at him is that he feels poorly about the terms of his return. 

 

He’s not a hero. Not in the broader sense, nor in the more romantic way, like how Kazakhstan refers to Otabek Altin as their skating hero.  

 

“Yuuri!” his mother’s call drags him from his half-asleep misery. “Come help shovel snow!” 

 

Yuuri rolls over and squints out the window. Snow? This late in April? Sure enough, large, fluffy flakes drift by the glass without a care in the world. 

 

He still isn’t used to this restored version of the inn, which lacks many of the creaky spots and strange leaks he’d grown accustomed to as a child. 

 

The inn itself was on the far reaches of the blast zone from the comet, so miraculously it wasn’t completely obliterated. Too much, too much was lost. And Yuuri hadn’t stayed to pick up the pieces. 

 

Guiltily he drags himself out of bed and pulls on his thickest sweater. He leaves his phone behind, still buzzing with notifications that he doesn’t want to see. He’ll deal with the fallout of that video later.

 

If he thinks about it now, he’ll crawl under the bed and never come back out.

 

Mari spots him in the hall and smirks. He doesn’t get the chance to figure out why she looks smug because sixty pounds of poodle knocks him to the ground. 

 

His first, bewildered thought is  _ Vicchan _ , but Vicchan was a toy poodle and never got this big. 

 

His second thought is almost as absurd as the first, because the poodle seems awfully familiar.  _ Makkachin? _

 

Yuuri doesn’t fight the full-face dog-kisses he’s getting, and it’s only when his father arrives that he’s freed. The pup stays close though, practically laying on top of Yuuri.

 

“He reminds me a little of Vicchan,” his father observes with an easy smile. 

 

Sitting up, Yuuri straightens his sweater. “Where did he come from?”

 

“Ah, he came with the handsome young foreigner. They made it in just before the snow started.” 

 

Handsome young foreigner?

 

Yuuri scrambles to his feet. “Victor?”

 

Toshiya nods. “I believe so. He seemed awfully familiar.” 

 

This can’t be happening. Yuuri wants to run, but the new layout of the inn is too unfamiliar for him to do so without skidding into a wall. He checks the indoor baths first, but it’s in the springs themselves that Yuuri finds him. 

 

Victor is laying back against the edge, a towel draped over his eyes. He looks relaxed, softer than he ever does on television. 

 

“Victor?”

 

The towel is pulled away, and suddenly Yuuri has bright blue eyes boring into his own.

 

“Yuuri!” Victor cries excitedly, sitting forward. He opens his mouth like he’s got a whole spiel planned out, but he closes it again. Swallows. 

 

“Victor? You okay?” Yuuri prompts, fighting the tremble in his voice. 

 

Victor smiles at him despite the slight pinch in his brow. “I’m perfect! Sorry, this place just gives me dejavu.”

 

It’s an odd thing to say so Yuuri nods like he understands, even though he doesn’t. 

 

“What are you—” Yuuri starts, but is cut off by his own squawk as Victor stands, bare in all his glory. 

 

Seeming not to notice, Victor strides across the pool to where Yuuri is. Why in the fresh hell does that freckle on his hip feel familiar, like a hushed inside joke?

 

Yuuri’s mind is still reeling when a very naked Victor stands in front of him, close enough to reach out and touch. 

 

“Yuuri, let me be your coach! I can help you win at the Grand Prix this time!” Victor exclaims, all grandeur and enthusiasm.

 

Yuuri stares, unable to form a coherent thought. Victor wants to coach  _ him? _

 

The silence stretches too long, and something in Victor’s face shifts. It’s infinitesimal, hardly recognizable if you didn’t know where to look. Yuuri doesn’t know why he does, Victor’s expressions have been anything but press-perfect.

 

There’s hesitation there, insecurity. Yuuri reaches out before the resolve even becomes a thought. His fingers close around Victor’s bicep and he squeezes, just enough to be reassuring. 

 

“Sorry,” he says, finally finding his voice. “I’m just… I’m surprised?”

 

Victor relaxes, his gaze locking onto Yuuri so intensely that he wants to squirm.

 

“Why are you surprised?” Victor asks, genuinely confused. “I saw the video of you skating Stammi Vicino, Yuuri. You’re beautiful.” 

 

Yuuri blushes so furiously that he covers his face with his hands in an attempt to hide it. 

 

“What’s this?” Victor asks curiously, tugging on the blue bracelet Yuuri has worn on his wrist for years.

 

He’s focused on it with more intensity than Yuuri thinks such a shoddy bracelet should warrant. Reluctantly Yuuri lets his hands fall away from his face, but Victor doesn’t let go of his wrist. 

 

“I made it years ago, but it’s felt, I don’t know… significant? So I’ve been wearing it as a good luck charm. Not that it’s done me much good,” Yuuri laughs self-deprecatingly.

 

Victor’s brows pinch into a frown, and in his attempt to evade the look, Yuuri is forced to remember that Victor is still very naked.  _ Dear god. _

 

Yuuri swallows hard. “How about you get dressed, and I’ll have Mom make you some food. Then we can, uh, talk about this.” 

 

After Yuuri has a moment to process the fact that his long-time idol is here, offering to coach him. 

 

Victor smiles brilliantly and Yuuri’s sure he’s about to get sunburn from it. “Okay!”

 

*

 

Yuuri swings by the kitchen and requests food for Victor from Hiroko before retreating to his room. He spends an indeterminable amount of time pacing before he calms enough to go back downstairs. 

 

Victor is fast asleep on the tatami mats, sprawled out with Makkachin curled up at his side. The dog lifts his head as Yuuri enters the room, chuffing softly. 

 

It’s impossible not to stoop and give Makkachin a few gentle pets before Yuuri retreats a couple feet to sit. Victor looks so peaceful that it’d be a crime to wake him up, so Yuuri watches and thinks. 

 

Minako bursts in not long after, scowling when Yuuri shushes her. 

 

“Is he really here to coach you?” she hisses. 

 

Yuuri shrugs and pushes his glasses back up his face. “That’s what he says.” 

 

Minako snorts and leans over to pinch his side. “You need to be in better shape, if that’s the case.” 

 

His herculean effort to swallow his squeak is wasted, because Victor stirs awake anyway. 

 

“Food?” Victor mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. 

 

Both Yuuri and Minako stare for a moment until Yuuri has the presence of mind to get up and go to the kitchen. He worries momentarily that Victor won’t like the different cuisine, but the worry was unfounded because Hiroko’s cooking wins everyone over. 

 

Victor dives right in and practically doesn’t breathe until the bowl is clean. Hiroko comes to check on them, and leaves blushing from the compliments Victor showers her with. There’s a fondness in Victor’s eyes when he looks at her that Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with.

 

“Victor,” Yuuri says, stomach churning as Victor’s attention snaps immediately to him. 

 

Minako, nursing a bottle of sake on the far side of the room, raises an impressed eyebrow. 

 

“About you coaching me…”

 

Victor looks absolutely delighted. “Yes! It might take me a day or two to put the regimen together, but it’ll be amazing! I already have so many ideas.” 

 

“You’re… you’re serious.” 

 

The surreal feeling had crept up on him the moment Yuuri had left Victor in the baths. It’s so easy to doubt reality, when it turns upside down like this. 

 

“Yuuri,” Victor says firmly. “I’m more serious than I’ve ever been about anything.” 

 

_ More serious than about his own skating? _

 

“Okay,” Yuuri breathes out. “Okay. Then let’s do this.” 

 

Victor beams that heart-shaped smile and practically launches himself at Yuuri. “Since I’m going to be your coach, you should tell me everything about yourself!” 

 

Yuuri recoils. 

 

_ Why does this feel like dejavu? _

 

*

 

Yuuri can only keep Victor out of his room for so long. No amount of door-slamming seems to deter him. 

 

In the end, Victor gets in to retrieve Makkachin, who has taken to sleeping with Yuuri. 

 

“Who’s my precious little traitor,” Victor coos, ruffling Makkachin’s ears before sneaking a look around.

 

His brows pinch together as he takes it in and Yuuri squirms. What could possibly be wrong with it? He hasn’t taken the time to fully redecorate since he’s been home, so there’s nothing too embarrassing to give him away. 

 

Victor inclines his head. “There’s no posters,” he says mournfully. “And no cactus. I have a houseplant, but it’s not a cactus because someone thought I’d stab myself on it.”

 

Yuuri gapes at him because what else is he supposed to do. “P-Posters?”

 

Victor nods seriously, doing a slow spin. “I can see it in my head, there should be a lot more posters.” 

 

He has no idea how much he’s making Yuuri want to hyperventilate. Victor can never know about all the posters of him Yuuri papered his bedroom walls with as a teen. 

 

Softening, Victor stoops to pet Makkachin. “I suppose you guys probably lost a lot when the comet hit.” 

 

It’s a topic Victor has clearly wanted to talk about, but has respectfully kept his mouth shut on the matter until now. 

 

“Yeah,” Yuuri says quietly. “We did. But everyone lived, and that’s what matters most.” 

 

Victor leans back against the dresser, his expression thoughtful. “I was fascinated with the story of Hasetsu for a long time. I choreographed a program about it even—the boy and his friends who saved a whole town.” 

 

He smiles to himself, and Yuuri is frozen. Victor can’t possibly know that it was him: Yuuri and Yuuko and Nishigori, because they all asked the media not to use their names. But. 

 

Oblivious to Yuuri’s internal turmoil, Victor continues on. 

 

“I’ve always felt connected, somehow. Like their urgency was mine, like their victory was somehow shared with me.” 

 

He laughs, low and self-mocking. 

 

“I have no right to feel that way, but I do.” 

 

Yuuri’s chest feels tight but he holds his right hand out, palm up, to Victor. 

 

“I’ve always felt like someone helped me that day, such a risky plan is not my style,” Yuuri murmurs, an admission without truly coming clean. 

 

Victor’s fingers tangle hesitantly with his, like he can’t believe this is happening. 

 

“You can belong here if you want, Victor,” he offers softly. “We’re happy to have you.” 

 

All of Victor’s lanky form crashes into him at once, forcing Yuuri to stagger back a step to keep them both upright. He nearly trips over Makkachin in the process, arms tightening protectively around Victor. 

 

He’s so much more tactile than Yuuri is used to. Phichit is almost as bad, but he respected Yuuri’s boundaries the moment they were established. Yuuri finds he doesn’t mind Victor as much, though his heart beats a frantic rhythm in his chest.

 

“Hey,” Yuuri says, hesitantly lifting a hand to Victor’s shoulder. “You alright?” 

 

It’s surreal, touching his idol. Victor is solid and warm, and unreasonably clingy. 

 

“Perfect,” Victor mumbles into his shoulder. 

 

What is Yuuri supposed to do with that? It’s a miracle he’s not having a breakdown over this. 

 

“Okay,” Yuuri says weakly. “I’m not the best at comforting people, sorry.” 

 

Victor squeezes him in retribution and steps back. His trademark smile has snapped back into place, leaving Yuuri feeling like he’s been shut out. 

 

“Nonsense, my Yuuri gives excellent hugs,” he chirps. 

 

Yuuri blushes a furious shade of red. “I should go help my mom in the kitchen, see you for our run.”

 

He only feels a little bad about fleeing. There’s a lot he needs to think about, and it’s easier to do when Victor isn’t hovering. 

 

*

 

“Yuuuuuri!” Phichit squeals in delight as the video call connects. 

 

Yuuri musters up a smile. “Hi Phichit, how’s being home in Thailand?” 

 

“Good, good! How’s Victor?” Phichit asks slyly. 

 

Groaning, Yuuri buries his face in his hands. “It’s complicated.”

 

Phichit leans so far back in his seat that Yuuri is afraid he might tip his chair over. 

 

“What do you mean, complicated? The man flew to Japan to coach you!” 

 

Yuuri purses his lips. “Phichit, do you believe in magic?” 

 

Intrigued, Phichit taps his chin. “I do. Life wouldn’t be fun without a little magic.” 

 

Sagging forward, Yuuri puts his head down on the desk. He stays there for a moment and Phichit, excellent friend that he is, waits him out.

 

“I just… I feel like something more is going on,” Yuuri mumbles. “He knows too much, I know too much…”

 

Phichit looks far more pleased than he should. “You think it’s magic.”

 

“I think it’s weird.” 

 

“Magic,” Phichit insists. “You guys meeting was destined.” 

 

“Shut up, Phichit.” 

 

Phichit cackles. “So what, Yuuri? What if it is magic? Would that really be so bad?”

 

A deep sigh. “I’m not a prince, Phichit. This isn’t some fairy tail ending.” 

 

Face softening, Phichit sits forward. “Of course it isn’t. It’s your life, Yuuri. A hard, wonderful mess it may be, but that doesn’t mean it won’t end happy.” 

 

“Happily marrying Victor?” Yuuri tries for a scornful tone but falls short. Instead, he just sounds sad. 

 

“Yuuri,” Phichit says firmly. “You’ve told me so much about that man in the last few years that I’ll never be able to bleach it from my brain. Sounds like the perfect marriage to me.” 

 

Yuuri groans something unintelligible.

 

“Have some ambition, Yuuri! Chase the man of your dreams!”

 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be ambitious about people,” Yuuri disagrees. “He’s not interested in anything but my skating.” 

 

“Yuuri how could you say such a thing,” Phichit gasps. 

 

It’s far too dramatic and Yuuri glares at him. 

 

“You think the man really got on a plane and basically moved in with you just because of your skating?” 

 

“Yeah? He came to be my coach, didn’t he?” 

 

“Oh, my hopeless Yuuri,” Phichit laments. “How can you not see it?” 

 

“Phichit.” 

 

“Tell me, what do you think Stammi Vicino is about?” Phichit prompts. “What do you think he was trying to express with that program?” 

 

That makes Yuuri pause. He takes a moment to think about it, to think about the feelings he was channeling when he skated it. It’s a program held close to his heart. 

 

“Loneliness,” he says, surprising himself with his honesty. “Stammi Vicino is about looking for something, someone, that you can’t quite find. Something that’s familiar but out of reach.” 

 

Phichit nods, waiting for him to continue. 

 

“It’s about trying to find that person and keep them close.” 

 

It’s an awfully mournful song for Victor, who always seems so upbeat every time he’s featured in the media. His trademark smile has sent millions of fans into cardiac arrest.

 

“And now tell me this, how do you think he felt to have those feelings skated back at him in kind?” Phichit asks gently. “Don’t you think the program is as personal for him as it is for you?”

 

Yuuri shuts down. 

 

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. 

 

“Hmm,” Phichit says, and relents. “Maybe you should ask him. There’s something there, Yuuri. I just know it.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hgnhhh I'm really excited for these next few chapters since Victor and Yuuri are finally in the same place :') you guys are amazing, thank you so much for your enthusiasm! 
> 
> There's a couple deleted scenes that didn't make it into the main fic because they didn't quite fit the flow. If I post those, do ya'll prefer them as tumblr posts or collected together onto one ao3 work? Or both? They're ~300-600 words each!


	14. Victor

_ [Hasetsu, May 2022] _

 

Getting Yuuri back into skating shape is less of a challenge than Victor had originally anticipated. Yuuri burns with a fierce determination that motivates Victor to push himself to the limit even as Yuuri does.

 

He’s an inexperienced coach, he knows that. Yakov will scream it from the rafters, surely. Victor may not have Yuuri’s relentless stamina, but he knows how to buckle down. 

 

While Yuuri does afternoon off-ice conditioning with Nishigori, Victor stays at the rink. There’s so much he needs to do. With Makkachin at his feet, he researches and choreographs and plans. 

 

Research tells him where he needs to brush up Yuuri’s technical scores, and where to focus his effort on jumps. Yuuri is capable of more quads, he can feel it in his gut. 

 

“You’re almost as bad as Yuuri-kun,” Yuuko observes, startling Victor from his musings.

 

When had she managed to sneak up behind him? Her English is better than most of the other locals, and she’s often his sounding board about Yuuri. 

 

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” Victor smiles, stretching his arms above his head to pop his back. 

 

Soon he’ll switch to working on the ice, to loosen up and test things out. 

 

Yuuko laughs, flopping down in the chair next to him. “The triplets are off with their grandmother,” she says when Victor does a wary sweep of the room.

 

The triplets are talented at sneaking, and there’s no telling when they might pop up and photograph him. 

 

“Oh, is that why it’s been quiet all morning?” he teases. 

 

“It has been peaceful, hasn’t it?” she sighs appreciatively. “Too bad it won’t last.” 

 

Victor hides his grin by ducking his head, pretending to focus on his notes. “They’re good kids.” 

 

“Hmm, they are. Good, figure skating obsessed, kids.”

 

It’s nice, being able to sit and chat with her. Yuuko is warm and kind, as well as surprisingly open to adopting Victor as her friend. The celebrity factor wore off quickly, and he’s grateful. 

 

“I’m glad Yuuri-kun has found it in himself to keep going,” she says thoughtfully. “But it’s also thanks to you.” 

 

Victor swallows hard. He’s always enjoyed the attention of fans, and the idea that he might inspire others. This is… different. He’s let Yuuri closer than he’s let anyone else before. Close enough to see the cracks and empty spaces that Victor paints over for the public. 

 

Who could see those things and still be inspired?

 

“I don’t think I have that much to do with it,” he demurs. “Yuuri has that talent, that drive within himself.” 

 

“Sure he does,” Yuuko agrees gamely. “But you’ve inspired him since we were kids. We used to imitate your routines all the time, and he found his love for the ice again skating your program.”

 

She flashes Victor a smile that’s equal parts sweet and mischievous. He can’t look away. 

 

“Having you here, coaching him, encouraging him, and just  _ caring _ about him is astronomical, Victor. He’s going to  _ thrive _ and I can’t wait to watch.” 

 

That makes two of them.

 

“He’s going to be incredible,” Victor sighs wistfully. “A vision on ice.” 

 

Yuuko leans into his shoulder briefly before getting to her feet. “Don’t take too long wooing him. We’ll all get gray hairs watching you two circle each other.” 

 

“What—” Victor starts, but Yuuko closes the door behind her with an exaggerated wink. 

 

He thunks his head down on his notebook. He’s trying, he really is. At least he knows Yuuko is in his corner. 

 

*

 

Yuri Plisetsky is an unexpected distraction, arriving in Hasetsu in a righteous huff, the way only teenagers can manage. 

 

Victor wants to be mad at him, but considering this is the fruit of his forgetfulness, he figures he doesn’t have a right to be. Yuuri doesn’t seem too bothered, which is a relief. But it does drastically cut into Victor’s one-on-one time with him. 

 

Their progress is… much slower than what he’d hoped for. Honestly, Victor’s ideal greeting would have been to tumble right into Yuuri’s waiting arms. 

 

It didn’t go quite like that, but Victor’s not surprised. Yuuri does things at his own pace, and only becomes more stubborn when pressed. 

 

The more time he spends in Hasetsu, the more he can’t seem to shake the feeling of dejavu. He walks routes with unfounded familiarity, and has an uncanny knack for knowing Yuuri’s favorite haunts.

 

Victor finds himself often wondering what the town was like before the comet. There are  remnants of it lingering in forgotten corners that were left behind in reconstruction.

 

“What are you so misty eyed about, old man?” Yurio complains when Victor takes him out for conditioning.

 

The teen hates his new nickname but Victor can’t thank Mari enough. Yurio needed to be taken down a notch. 

 

Yuuri, bless him, has taken his younger counterpart down a couple more without even realizing it. Yurio looks up to him, and Victor would laugh if he didn’t understand so completely. Yuuri is a wonder to behold. 

 

“This town has seen a lot, Yura,” he answers, because he knows Yurio will get pissy if he doesn’t.

 

Huffing, Yurio kicks at a pebble. “I was too little to remember the comet.”

 

Victor tilts his head back, letting the air fill his lungs. “I was old enough and I didn’t really know about it until three years after the fact.” 

 

“You’re terrible,” Yurio accuses. “How could you not know?"

 

“I wasn’t paying attention to anything but skating,” Victor says honestly. 

 

That earns him a scoff. “Even I know the world is bigger than skating,  _ Victor _ , and I’m ‘just a kid.’”

 

“Do you, Yurio?” Victor asks, his smile deceptively sweet. “I still think you have a lot to learn.” 

 

Yurio eyes him warily and Victor’s smile widens. 

 

“Like for instance, to respect your elders. Stretch, and then I want you to run hills.”

 

Yuuri later claimed that he could hear Yurio’s cussing all the way across town. 

 

*

 

“Yuurrriiiii, show me your eros,” Victor prods, circling Yuuri on the ice. 

 

They’ve been working hard all morning, but Yuuri still hasn’t gotten his eros quite right. 

 

Yurio is on the far end of the rink, determinedly hammering away at his program. Today he’s decided that ignoring Victor is the way to go, though that’s probably aided by Yuuko buttering him up with compliments. 

 

“I’m trying!” Yuuri snaps, chin lifting to expose the column of his throat. 

 

Both Yuuko and Yurio’s eyes are on them, but Victor’s focused on the way his heart is seizing in his chest. He can’t mess this up. There’s no question in his mind that he loves Yuuri. It was inevitable, truly. 

 

But this goes beyond his love. He convinced Yuuri to let him coach him, and he can’t fail.

 

“I’m sorry, Yuuri. What can I do differently to help you?” 

 

Victor is being allowed to see another side of Yuuri and while it scares him, he embraces it. He half hopes that Yuuri will ask him to take his hand and show what eros means, but that’s far fetched. 

 

Yuuri’s eyes sweep critically over him and his entire demeanor relaxes. 

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he apologizes, gaze dropping to his skates. “I’m frustrated that I can’t get this right.” 

 

_ Oh, that won’t do. _ Victor envelopes Yuuri in a hug, ignoring Yuuri’s surprised squeak to tuck the other man securely against his chest. He doesn’t move a centimeter more until Yuuri relaxes.

 

It was a risk, since Yuuri can be sensitive about his personal space, but Victor’s glad the gamble paid off. At the far end of the rink, Yurio is making retching noises that are collectively ignored. 

 

“I have the utmost faith in you, my Yuuri,” he murmurs. “Trust your body, you’re more capable than you think.”

 

Yuuri pulls back slowly, and Victor is delighted to see determination solidify in his eyes. “Let’s run through it one more time.” 

 

Victor wants so badly to kiss him. 

 

*

 

It’s easy to avoid Yakov’s anger over his retirement: all he has to do is ignore phone calls and texts. His rink mates wisely leave it alone as well, but then they were never as close to him anyway. Christophe is the only one who remains. 

  
And Victor can’t ignore him. They’re competitors, but they’ve also become friends over the years. Especially after Victor’s first visit to Hasetsu. 

 

**Christoph-bae** : how’s japan?

 

**Vicky:** amazing (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

 

**Christoph-bae:** you’re not giving my boy Yuuri a hard time are you?

 

**Vicky:** Your boy Yuuri? (・о・)

 

**Christoph-bae:** I knew him first ;) 

 

**Vicky:** HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THIS

 

**Christoph-bae:** easily. have you seen him move?

 

**Vicky:** … touche 

 

**Vicky:** how does a body make music like that

 

**Vicky:** I’m weak ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

 

**Christoph-bae:** sure sure

 

**Christoph-bae:** don’t think I’ve forgiven you for retiring, Vic 

 

**Christoph-bae:** how am I supposed to stay motivated without you?

 

**Vicky:** I’m not going to apologize

 

**Vicky:** I needed to do this

 

**Christoph-bae:** I know. but it still sucks

 

**Vicky:** you’ll just have to bust your ass to beat my Yuuri instead

 

**Christoph-bae:** your Yuuri? 

 

**Christoph-bae:** somethin you wanna tell me?

 

**Vicky:** wwwaaaaaattttttt ╰(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)╯

 

**Christoph-bae:** uh huh

 

**Christoph-bae:** Yuuri had better bring it, this is my year to win GPF

 

**Vicky:** we’ll see you there :)

 

**Christoph-bae:** put that passive aggressive smiley away or so help me god

 

**Vicky:** :):):):)

 

**Christoph-bae:** VICTOR NIKIFOROV I SWEAR

 

*

 

Victor finds himself wandering the inn late at night, when Makkachin is sleeping with Yuuri and the world is quiet. His mind, however, is far from it. 

 

Yurio left after Onsen On Ice, taking the whirlwind with him. Instead of recovering time with Yuuri, Victor finds Yuuri shying away instead. There’s something contemplative in his eyes that Victor can’t parse out and it scares him.

 

He’s comfortable here. He would even venture to say that he’s happy, an emotion he’s only caught glimpses of in recent years. 

 

Hasetsu and its occupants are the balm his soul needed. St. Petersburg still calls to his blood, but Victor doesn’t want to be anywhere that Yuuri isn’t. Just the thought of having to walk away makes the gloom press heavier on his shoulders. 

 

“You’re up late,” Mari catches him standing with the back door cracked open, letting the cool air bite at his skin. 

 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Victor answers. 

 

He doesn’t need pretty words and fake smiles with Mari. She’s as adept at Yuuri is at seeing through them, but is much more brutal about calling him out.

 

“Step out with me,” she says, and Victor follows her into the dark. 

 

The night is near silent, the stillness broken only by the call of seasonal frogs. Above them the stars spill out across the sky, brighter than Victor is used to seeing them. 

 

Mari turns so that the wind will carry the smoke away before she lights up. 

 

“Yuuri?”

 

Her question is barely a question at all, but the nuances ask for her.

 

“Amongst other things,” Victor says evasively. 

 

Mari, ever merciless, punches his shoulder. “That’s bull. He’s been sneaking around the house, as if I wouldn’t notice he was avoiding you.” 

 

Victor slumps. So Yuuri is avoiding him, it’s not just his imagination. 

 

Taking a thoughtful draw of her cigarette, Mari turns to eye him. “Yuuri gets like this sometimes, caught up in his head to the point where he can’t get back out.” 

 

“But what can I do to help, if I’m the problem?” 

 

He doesn’t mean to let the desperation creep into his tone. Mari snuffs her cigarette and hooks an arm through Victor’s. It’s surprisingly comforting. 

 

“You can help by talking to him about it. Be straightforward in addressing whatever his concerns are.” 

 

She tilts her head back to look at the sky as Victor nods, taking it all in. 

 

“Above all else, believe in him. That’s all we can really do.” 

 

“How do I talk to him if he won’t stop running from me?” 

 

“Ask him to go to the beach with you,” Mari advises. “There’s something about the ocean that makes your head a little clearer. You can’t force him to go, but he will when he’s ready.” 

 

“Okay,” Victor says, half to himself. “Okay.”

 

Mari tugs lightly on his arm, drawing his attention back to her. 

 

“Regardless of what Yuuri decides, I’m your honorary big sister from here on out, got it? Everyone needs a sibling to boss them around.” 

 

Victor laughs to stave off the tears that suddenly threaten to slip out. “I would be honored, Mari-neechan.” 

 

“Look at you, learning things,” she teases, having to pause to cover a yawn. “Alright, I’m going to bed. You should do the same.”   
  


“I’ll get there, I have some thinking to do yet.” 

 

“Hmmph. Goodnight, Victor.” 

 

“Goodnight, Mari.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mari wins the sibling of the year award :')))) we in the homestretch now my dudeessss


	15. Yuuri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, forgot this was such a big chapter. Happy early weekend I guess :)

_ [Hasetsu, June 2022] _

 

Yuuri knows that he’s being unfair about avoiding Victor. 

 

It’s not Victor’s fault, after all, that Yuuri has been feeling conflicted. He’s not a perfect coach by any stretch of the imagination, but Yuuri thinks that this could work. Skating for Victor, seeing the other man’s face light up when he nails a jump… There are too many reasons why he’s so terrified of this ending. 

 

Yuuri oscillates viciously between wanting Victor to truly  _ see _ him, and being terrified of that exact thing. 

 

If Victor sees his flaws and walks away, he doesn’t think he can recover from it. 

 

He’s not so naive as to believe that Victor is without flaws.  _ Oh, no _ , he’s seen them. But Victor’s flaws, while sometimes irritating, are more endearing than anything. 

 

They make him human enough for Yuuri to touch. 

 

More than human enough for Yuuri to fall in head-over-heels in love with. There, there is the root of all his fears. He doesn’t want to disappoint Victor, and he doesn’t want to be seen as unworthy of Victor’s love. 

 

And so, he avoids Victor while he sorts through the turmoil in his mind. It visibly upsets Victor and magnifies Yuuri’s guilt in turn. 

 

Yuuri is simmering in his guilt, tucked under his blankets, when someone knocks. They wait a moment before cracking the door open cautiously. 

 

“Let’s go to the beach, Yuuri,” Victor says gently. 

 

He’s dressed for a walk, with Makkachin panting eagerly at his feet. Yuuri can’t say no this time. 

 

“I’ll be right out,” Yuuri says, muffled by the blankets. 

 

Victor nods and closes the door, presumably going back downstairs. Mari has been meddling, it seems. No one else knows to use that tactic to get him up. 

 

Yuuri is glad that someone else is looking out for Victor. Mari seems like an unlikely choice, considering their clashing personalities. But Yuuri has noticed them falling into an easy friendship. 

 

Well, time to face the music then. Yuuri drags on a sweater, since even though summer is almost here, it’s always chillier on the beach. 

 

Victor waits for him by the door, and they depart without saying a word. 

 

Makkachin bounds ahead, chasing after seagulls. The silence between them is fraught, a living thing standing on the sand. Victor walks ahead until he finds a suitable spot to sit, and pats for Yuuri to sit next to him. 

 

Yuuri does so tentatively. This will be a turning point, for better or for worse. 

 

“You can talk to me, if you want to,” Victor begins, and then snorts deprecatingly at himself under his breath. “Sorry, I’m really bad at this. If I did something to upset you, please tell me.” 

 

Yuuri stares at him, and Victor hugs Makkachin to himself, directing his gaze out to the waves. 

 

“I’m terrible at this,” he sighs. 

 

Yuuri is inclined to agree, but like with coaching, at least he’s trying. 

 

“It’s not you,” Yuuri says, and almost laughs at the disbelieving look Victor gives him. “It’s not. I just… I don’t like being seen as vulnerable. As weak.” 

 

There is understanding in Victor’s gaze that makes his heart clench, but he pushes on. 

 

“I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

It comes out as a whisper, barely audible. 

 

Victor takes that in, silvery brows pinched in thought. In a surprising show of wisdom, he doesn’t offer any empty platitudes. 

 

“You’re not weak, Yuuri. I don’t want to disappoint you either,” Victor answers finally. “What do you want me to be, Yuuri? What do you need?” 

 

“I want you to be Victor. Victor my coach, my friend, my—” he cuts himself off, blushing. “Be you. That’s what I need.”

 

The heart-shaped smile Yuuri loves so much blooms across Victor’s face.

 

“Okay! I’m going to push you hard, Yuuri. It’s how I show my love.” 

 

Yuuri’s blush creeps down his neck and colors his ears. “I’ll show you with my skating.” 

 

It’s a cheesy statement, but he means it. Yuuri’s always been best at showing his emotions through dance, and through skating. 

 

That reminds him of a conversation with Phichit, one that’s been tucked away in the back of his mind. 

 

“Hey Victor? Can I ask you something?” 

 

“Hmm? Sure, Yuuri,” Victor says easily. 

 

He’s more relaxed, a hand resting comfortably in Makkachin’s fur now that things have been worked out. 

 

“What did you feel when you saw the video of me skating Stammi Vicino?” 

 

It’s a bold question. Yuuri wouldn’t have dared ask it months ago when Victor first arrived. But he needs to know the answer, for both of them.

 

Victor takes a deep, shaky breath that he tries to disguise with a smile. “Wow, Yuuri. You couldn’t ask me my favorite color?” 

 

“I don’t have to, it’s purple,” Yuuri shakes his head. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

 

Making a noise of disagreement, Victor sits back. His face in contemplative in a way that Yuuri isn’t used to. Normally it’s contemplation turned outwards, namely, toward Yuuri. 

 

Introspection makes him seem weary, more worldworn. 

 

“I felt heard,” Victor says just when Yuuri is ready to buckle under the weight of the silence. “I felt… I felt like someone saw and  _ understood _ .” 

 

Yuuri sucks in a startled breath. Makkachin chuffs, climbing most of the way into Victor’s lap. 

 

“Do you, Yuuri? Do you feel it too? Like you’re grasping for someone just out of reach?”

 

His voice is raw, desperate in a way that Yuuri has never associated with Victor. Victor is always cool, collected, and unshakeable. Or so Yuuri thought. He’s learning that things are never what they seem. 

 

He considers it. “I did. Now… now I don’t so much any more.” 

 

Victor looks up, curious, and Yuuri’s heart swells. Whatever this feeling is that is building in his chest swallows his anxiety for a fleeting moment. 

 

“It’s been better since you got here.” 

 

Victor’s face passes through more expressions than Yuuri can keep track of before it settles on awe. 

 

A delighted squeal of “Yuuuuuuurrriiii!” is the only warning Yuuri gets before he has an armful of gangly Russian. 

 

They both tumble back onto the sand, Yuuri instinctively clutching Victor to keep him from hurting himself. It knocks the wind out of him, however, and he wheezes to get his breath back. Victor is still clinging to him and Makkachin, not to be left out, makes it a literal dog pile. 

 

“Victor, can’t breath.” 

 

“Oh, sorry Yuuri! Makka, off!” Victor scolds, getting off of Yuuri and reaching back to help him up.

 

“Next time, use your words?” Yuuri suggests as he straightens his glasses, 

 

Victor looks abashed for a fleeting second before the heart-shaped smile takes over. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just really glad you feel that way, Yuuri.” 

 

Yuuri flushes and busies himself with brushing sand off his clothes so he doesn’t have to meet Victor’s eyes. Slender fingers cup his chin, tilting his head up as Victor gently wipes sand off his cheek. 

 

“You make me feel whole, Yuuri,” he says softly and steps back, letting Yuuri have space to breathe. 

 

And boy does he need a breather after a statement like that.

 

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Yuuri hedges. 

 

Victor shrugs, his face open and earnest. “I’ve been accused of such. This is me being honest.”

 

Yuuri takes two deep, calming breaths. “Okay. Can we maybe… take this slow?”

 

“We can do whatever you want, Yuuri,” Victor says. “I’m more than willing to wait.” 

 

Huffing out a breath, Yuuri stoops to give Makkachin a hug. 

 

“I’ll try not to keep you waiting too long then,” he mumbles. 

 

He wants to go flying headlong into whatever this is with Victor, he truly does, but his anxiety won’t stand for that. Not when the fear of Victor leaving is still fresh. 

 

“As long as you stay close to me, I’m happy.” 

 

It’s spoken with a teasing lilt and a playful smile, but Victor means it seriously. The way his eyes smile less than his face, and the tension lingering on his jaw tell a story to Yuuri. 

 

There’s more still that Yuuri can’t quite interpret. He’s getting good at reading Victor — could spend his entire life cataloging what each little expression means. 

 

They both still have a lot to learn about life and each other, but Yuuri is looking forward to it. 

 

*   
  


Things shift slowly, with Victor respecting Yuuri’s wishes. 

 

Touches become more frequent, exchanged on the ice and in passing. Yuuri learns to expect Victor’s arm around his shoulders, or a light touch at his elbow. Fingers tangle when they walk together, Makkachin darting between their legs. 

 

It’s comfortable. 

 

Late one evening, Yuuri watches Victor struggle to untangle his damp hair from his spot on the floor. It’s Victor’s own fault, he’d insisted on helping Yuuri stretch in the baths earlier and made a mess of himself. 

 

“You’re going to make yourself bald for real,” Yuuri teases him, stretching luxuriously.

 

As intended, Victor shrieks and drops the comb. “Yuuri!” 

 

Yuuri laughs until tears form at the corners of his eyes and his abs start to hurt. Makkachin helpfully barks to add to the ruckus. Victor sulks, leaving the comb on the dresser and crawling under the covers. 

 

Eventually, Yuuri laughs himself out and clambers to his feet. “Victor?”

 

“No,” the blanket mound says. 

 

Yuuri wonders if Russia knows that their skating hero is this much of a baby about his hair. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he wheedles. 

 

After the first time, Yuuri learned not to feel quite so bad about teasing him. He’s not actually balding; his hair isn’t even thinning as far as Yuuri can tell. And Victor spends so much time teasing him that turnabout is fair. 

 

“If you come out, I’ll brush the knots out for you,” he offers at last.

 

It works instantaneously. Victor tumbles out of the covers, looking more like an eager puppy than Makkachin. 

 

“Please?” 

 

As if anyone could say no to those eyes. 

 

Yuuri grabs the comb and pats the edge of the bed. “Sit.” 

 

Victor flops down and Yuuri sits behind him, tucking one leg under so that he has a little extra height. He starts carefully working the comb through the silvery strands, patiently untangling each knot. Victor’s hair is soft and silky to the touch. It’s no wonder it tangles so easily. 

 

He works in silence for a few minutes, Victor becoming putty under his hands. He’s leaning back into Yuuri but Yuuri doesn’t mind much, too focused on what he’s doing. 

 

“Do you miss your long hair?” he asks. “I can imagine it was a lot to manage, but it was so beautiful.” 

 

“I do, sometimes. I cut it because I was heartsick,” Victor admits. “But I can’t remember what about.” 

 

Yuuri makes a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat and starts on another section. 

 

“You could always grow it back out.” 

 

Yuuri’s love for Victor’s long hair has never been a secret. He likes it short, too—Victor would look good no matter what. But he’s always wanted to sink his fingers into those long locks. 

 

Considering his hair has never been longer than it is now, Yuuri is pretty decent at braiding and doing hair. The triplets often beg him to do theirs. 

 

Victor exhales, considering. “Maybe. You’re right about it being a lot of work.” 

 

The final knot comes undone and Yuuri runs the comb through Victor’s hair one last time just to make sure. 

 

“There, all done,” he proclaims. 

 

He moves to stand, but Victor catches his wrist. “Stay, I’ll return the favor.” 

 

_ Oh _ . Yuuri can already feel his cheeks heating up, but he stays put. Letting Victor brush his hair feels more intimate than it was reversed. He should say no and go to bed. It’s undeniable, though, that he wants this. 

 

Victor’s fingers are gentle as they explore, and he marvels quietly in a mixture of English and Russian. Yuuri’s hair is a different texture and much thicker than Victor’s, and Victor is obsessed. 

 

Yuuri is dozing where he sits by the time Victor is finished playing with his hair, but it’s a good way to end the day. 

 

He’s sleepy and relaxed, and he’s out the moment his head hits his pillow. 

 

*

 

Yuuri finds himself at the rink far later than he should be. The only sound in the whole building is the muted swish of his skates against the ice. 

 

They depart for the Cup of China tomorrow and Yuuri is, well, freaking out about it. 

 

Getting out on there again for lower level competitions helped, but… he can’t help but be anxious. Logic says he shouldn’t be. Against all odds, this season is the best chance he’s ever had of going to the Grand Prix Final. 

 

Victor, while definitely lacking in some aspects as a coach, has managed to bring out the best in Yuuri. 

 

Yuuri has always worked hard, but Victor has pushed him even farther. And Yuuri is inspired. 

 

Unfortunately, inspiration can’t soothe his nerves, but skating can. He does compulsory figures until his eyes start to get fuzzy, so zoned out that he doesn’t notice Yuuko watching until he’s about to get off the ice. 

 

“Have you been there this entire time?” he gasps, clutching his chest. 

 

Yuuko smirks, tipping her head to the side. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

 

Yuuri heaves a sigh and clips his skate guards on. “Why are you even here this late? You know I’ll lock up when I’m done.”

 

“Victor asked me to keep an eye on you tonight,” she shrugs. “Who was I to say no?”

 

“And where is Victor?” 

 

He heads toward the locker room, and Yuuko trails along behind him.

 

“Minako-sensei got her hands on him,” Yuuko smirks. “She likes having a drinking buddy.” 

 

_ Ah _ . Victor is going to be very hungover for their flight then. Maybe it means he’ll be tired enough to let Yuuri sleep, rather than chatter. 

 

“I think he’s also starting to understand that you need this time without the pressure of him being here,” Yuuko muses. 

 

Yuuri sinks down on the bench, swapping his skates for sneakers before settling in to do maintenance on the blades. Yuuko sits down next to him, clearly pleased with herself.  

 

“Do you and Victor talk about me?” Yuuri asks suspiciously.

 

“Sometimes, it’s a topic of common interest,” Yuuko says innocently. “He’s nice to talk to.”

 

“Uh huh.” 

 

He takes his time drying each boot off, being thorough about getting into all the cracks and crevices. Yuuko digs his soft guards out of his bag for him and drops them onto the bench.

 

“What, you don’t want to share, Yuuri-kun?” she teases. “No need to worry, I’m a married woman.” 

 

Yuuri splutters, his face turning several shades of red. “I’m not jealous!” 

 

“No?” Yuuko pouts, disappointed. “You should fight harder for your man.” 

 

“He’s not my man!” 

 

Yuuko flicks his nose. “He could be! You guys would make a stunning couple!” 

 

“ _ Yuu-chan _ .” 

 

Yuuri leans back out of her reach, frowning. She’s completely unapologetic, watching him with too keen eyes. 

 

They stare each other down until she gives first, smothering a yawn. 

 

“Fine, be that way. You’ll see soon enough,” Yuuko huffs. 

 

He disagrees, but stands so that she can give him a hug. 

 

“Good luck, Yuuri-kun, I know you’ll do great. And we’ll all be cheering for you!” 

 

Yuuri manages a tiny smile. “Thanks Yuu-chan.” 

 

*

 

Their departure in the morning is a quiet affair. Victor is subdued, though not terribly hungover. 

 

While Yuuri says goodbye to his parents, Victor gives Makkachin a very long lecture about behaving. 

 

“Watch after our Vicchan, will you Yuuri?” Hiroko says, fussing with Yuuri’s jacket. 

 

_ Our Vicchan? _

 

“Shouldn’t he be looking after me instead?” Yuuri asks. 

 

Hiroko has adopted Victor into the fold, which seems to be the trend with the Katsuki family. 

 

“Of course he’ll be taking care of you, don’t be silly,” she tuts. 

 

That... still doesn’t make sense, but Yuuri is too tired to argue. Both of them turn to where Victor is getting licked to death by Makkachin. He looks happy, and it makes something in Yuuri’s chest warm. 

 

Hiroko beams. “Skate well, Yuuri! We’ll watch you!” 

 

Yuuri sinks into her hug and knows that he’s incredibly lucky to have a family as supportive as his. 

 

_ [Cup of China, October 2022] _

 

Yuuri doesn’t know why he bothered to be surprised that Phichit managed to track them down. Victor probably posted something on instagram that led him right to them. 

 

“I’m inviting Ciao Ciao!” Phichit chirps before Yuuri can say a word. 

 

This will be fun.

 

“Introduce me to your friend, Yuuri!” Victor leans far more into his personal space than he needs to. 

 

The alcohol is already flowing, despite Yuuri’s abstinence prior to competition. 

 

“Victor, this is Phichit Chulanont. He was my roommate and rinkmate in Detroit,” Yuuri obliges. “Phichit, I don’t think you need me to tell you this is Victor.” 

 

“Nope!” Phichit agrees, grinning. “Nice to meet you Victor, I’ve heard lots about you.” 

 

“ _ Phichit _ ,” Yuuri hisses. 

 

Victor, naturally, looks delighted. “Oh! Yuuri talks about me?” 

 

Yuuri has never been so glad to see Celestino, who arrives just in the nick of time. It saves him, for a little while at least. Victor strikes a conversation up with Celestino, which leaves Phichit the freedom to whisper with Yuuri. 

 

“Guang Hong and Leo will be here in a bit,” he says, at normal volume, and then grins evilly. “But until then, spill.” 

 

Determinedly, Yuuri shovels food in his mouth. “There’s nothing to tell.” 

 

Phichit cackles like a madman. “Oh please. That man worships the ground you walk on, and you think there’s nothing to tell.” 

 

“What do I have to do to make you shut up about this?” Yuuri groans. 

 

“You can promise that I’ll be the best man when you marry him.” 

 

“Who else would be my best man?” Yuuri questions.

 

Phichit arches one well-manicured eyebrow and Yuuri caves. What’s he got to lose, after all? Like he said, Phichit is his first pick for best man no matter what. And he’s not marrying Victor, so no harm done. 

 

“Fine. You can be my best man,” he says, resigned. 

 

Phichit claps gleefully. “Glad you could see it my way.” 

 

There wasn’t much to see, but Yuuri lets him have it. He spends another five or so minutes deflecting questions about the bits of Victor he’s seen naked, while Victor drinks Celestino under the table. 

 

“Uh oh, Celestino might be dead,” Phichit observes as Celestino starts foaming at the mouth. 

 

Victor looks drunkenly pleased with himself, and is rapidly shedding articles of clothing. Phichit starts cheering him on, which is how Yuuri finds out that Phichit and Victor get along like a house on fire. 

 

Who in their right mind would try to out-drink a Russian, anyway? 

 

By the time Guang Hong and Leo show up, Yuuri is too tired from wrangling a nearly naked Victor to feel bad about possibly scarring them for life. He’s going to blame this all on Phichit tomorrow.

 

*

 

It’s a good feeling, to be back amongst his peers. Yuuri is on the older end for currently active men’s singles skaters, but he enjoys the younger cohort. Leo and Guang Hong especially fit in well with him and Phichit. 

 

And, of course, Christophe Giacometti is older than him and still competing. Older, and much handsier. 

 

Yuuri resists the urge to give his hand a good smack for that. Christophe doesn’t mean anything by it, but Yuuri doesn’t like people in his bubble. Well, except for Victor. 

 

“Christophe,” he greets, arching an eyebrow. 

 

“Why hello, Yuuri,” Christophe purrs. “Glad to see you back. Where’s your darling coach?” 

 

Yuuri tips his chin toward where Victor is doing yet another interview. This is the first big event they’ve been to as coach and student, and the media is in a frenzy. 

 

They keep asking when Victor will make a comeback, and Victor’s expression grows tighter each time he brushes them off. 

 

Christophe hums thoughtfully before calling out, “Victor, come back already would you? It’s hard to be motivated without you.” 

 

Victor gives him an angelic smile and shakes his head. “Nope! Motivate yourself, Chris. It’s about time.” 

 

That earns a snort from Christophe, but Yuuri stays quiet. 

 

“I would say you’re responsible for stealing him away from the world, Yuuri, but I think the world stole him from you first,” Christophe says, leaning in conspiratorially.  

 

“Chris?” Yuuri is absolutely bewildered. “What does that even mean?”

 

Christophe shrugs nonchalantly. “It means what it means. Are you going to claim what’s yours, or not?” 

 

Something clicks, just then, for Yuuri. 

 

_ Is he going to claim what’s his?  _

 

When it’s put that way… 

 

Yuuri strides off, barely remembering to wave goodbye to Christophe. He’s going to show everyone that Victor is exactly where he belongs: with Yuuri. 

 

*

 

Yuuri is losing his mind going into the free skate. He’s never been in first after a short program, and being the one to beat is terrifying. Sleep evaded him last night too, meaning he’s exhausted on top of his anxiety.

 

None of his usual tactics seem to help. Desperate, Victor drags him down to the parking garage to get away from the noise. For a while, it’s enough, and Yuuri’s music drowns out everything else. 

 

But Yuuri knows his time is coming up soon, and pulls the earbuds out. The sound of Phichit’s skate wrapping up overhead, and the roar of the crowd assault him. It’s too much. 

 

Victor tries to cover Yuuri’s ears but Yuuri pushes him away, frustrated tears in his eyes. 

 

He wraps his arms around himself as the tears begin to flow in earnest. Uncertain, Victor gives him space. 

 

“Yuuri?” he ventures when the silence becomes unbearable. 

 

Yuuri shakes his head and clenches his eyes shut. The pressure is too much, crushing all rational thought. There’s so much riding on this. Yuuri’s reputation, and now Victor’s...

 

Hands so reverent in their touch cup his cheeks, thumbing away tears. 

 

“I’m bad at helping people when they cry,” Victor sighs. “Maybe I should just kiss you.”

 

_ He really is an idiot.  _

 

Yuuri pulls back, wrenching his face from Victor’s grip, “No!” 

 

Victor winces but releases him, hands dropping to his sides. “Sorry, sorry. Let me try again.”

 

He pauses for a moment, and  _ god _ does Yuuri hope he thinks this one through. Yuuri can cope with whatever he says because he knows Victor doesn’t want to hurt him, but it would be preferable if they were comforting words rather than hurtful ones. 

 

“I believe in you, Yuuri. Whatever happens, win or lose, I’m here.”

 

_ That could have been worse.  _

 

“No matter what?” Yuuri whispers, hope swelling in his chest. 

 

“No matter what,” Victor says firmly. 

 

Yuuri breathes out and wipes his face on his sleeve. Crying was a convenient release of pressure, and despite his congested nose, his head feels a lot clearer. 

 

“You really do suck at that,” Yuuri mumbles as Victor slings an arm over his shoulder and leads him back toward the rink.

 

“I’ll work on it,” Victor sighs. “I haven’t had much opportunity to get good at it.”

 

They barely make it on time, but Yuuri pauses to press his finger to the whorl on the top of Victor’s head, and Victor freezes under the touch. It’s reassurance and understanding. It’s an  _ I see you _ because they know each other’s flaws, now, but stay despite them. 

 

Yuuri is going to show him exactly what that means.

 

It takes him a moment once he hits the ice to get himself in order. His head is blank except for the lightning fast calculations he’s making, halving the emotion he usually shows. 

 

But he brings it back, letting the music sink into his chest and thrum in time with his heart. Victor is going to either kill him or love him for this, but it feels right. It is right. 

 

Victor is inexperienced as a coach, so Yuuri doesn’t feel too bad blatantly disobeying him on this. Changing the quad loop at the end is his choice to make.

 

Yuuri knows the second he pushes off the ice that it’s going to be decent. The rotations are good, even if he falls on the landing. 

 

A quad flip. Victor’s signature move, and Yuuri’s declaration to the world. 

 

Everything else after that doesn’t matter. Yuuri’s chest is heaving and his lungs are on fire, but he feels so, so, alive.

 

He takes his bows and looks for Victor as he skates to the exit. Victor is waiting for him, arms thrown wide in an invitation. 

 

The smile on his face is almost too much to bear. 

 

“Victor! I did good, right?” 

 

The pleased little head flip and arms held wide are the only answer he needs.

 

Yuuri glides toward him, but before he can reach the edge, Victor launches himself. It’s all Yuuri can do to catch him and  _ oh, oh.  _

 

Kissing Victor is better than he dreamed it could be, and Yuuri has dreamt it more than a few times. It feels like… well, it feels like falling.

 

And then his back hits the ice, Victor’s hand cradling the back of his head, and  _ oh. _ Maybe he was falling after all. It’s fitting, he’s been plummeting headlong for Victor since the beginning. 

 

“It was the only thing I could do to surprise you the way you surprised me,” Victor grins, one part sheepish and the rest overly pleased with himself.

 

“You surprised me,” Yuuri allows, a smile breaking out over his own face. 

 

Someone comes to get them off the ice, but they don’t let go of each other even when they’re sitting in the kiss and cry. 

 

“How did that feel?” Victor asks, pulling Yuuri closer into his side. 

 

Yuuri absorbs his warmth, eyes on the screen. “I just hope they liked it.” 

 

Victor’s hand finds his and squeezes. “I’m sure they did.” 

  
  


_ [Rostelecom Cup,  November 16-17, 2022] _

 

Yuuri should have known that things were going too smoothly. 

 

He felt good coming off the ice after his short program. Yurio and JJ are definitely going to be the ones he has to beat, but he’s known that for a while now. 

 

This may be Yurio’s senior debut, and Yuuri can see him struggling to channel his agape, but Yurio has more raw talent than perhaps even Victor did at that age. 

 

And now, Yuuri is unintentionally motivating him. It’ll be interesting to see where he goes, at least. 

 

JJ is a monster in his own right, with his arsenal of quads. It’s a steep challenge.

 

Yuuri digs his phone out of his jacket pocket as it rings. He doesn’t have the chance to get a ‘hello’ in before Mari is talking into his ear, before he has a moment to inhale. 

 

“Makkachin choked on some steamed buns, we’re not sure he’s going to make it,” she says, and Yuuri can hear the tears in her voice. “He’s at the vet now, but… I’m sorry to have to call you like this again, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri swallows, the bitter cold sliding down his throat to settle in his chest. He can’t do this again. He loves Makkachin almost as much as he loved Vicchan, and Victor… Victor will be devastated. 

 

There’s only one viable choice. 

 

“Yuuri?” two voices say at once. Mari, in his ear, and Victor, who’s taken his hand. 

 

“I’m sending him home. Please take care of them, Mari-neechan.” 

 

Yuuri sounds steadier than he feels, and he’s grateful. 

 

“I will, I promise.” 

 

She hangs up, and Yuuri is left with a concerned Victor clutching his hand. Urgency buzzes through him, but Yuuri leans forward to rest their foreheads together for a single, stolen moment. 

 

“You need to go back to Japan, Victor.” 

 

“What? Why? I need to be here with you,” Victor says, pulling back to look into Yuuri’s face. “Yuuri, what’s wrong?”

 

“It’s Makkachin, he—“ and that’s where Yuuri can’t hold on any longer. 

 

The tears well up and he slumps against Victor, holding in sobs. 

 

“You have to go, he needs you. I’ll be fine,” Yuuri whispers. 

 

Victor strokes his hair, distress lining his face. It’s pure luck that Yurio and Yakov round the corner a heartbeat later. 

 

Yuuri feels like he’s drifting as Victor coerces Yakov into being Yuuri’s coach for the free skate. Yurio sidles over, his face scrunched up in disgust. 

 

“Victor always gets his way, doesn’t he?” He grumbles. 

 

Yuuri wipes tears off his face with the heel of his palm. “Makkachin might die.” 

 

That shuts him right up. Yurio shuffles his feet awkwardly before brushing against Yuuri as he walks away. 

 

“Yakov is a far better coach than Victor, you’ll be fine,” he says offhandedly as he goes.

 

It’s downright friendly, coming from Yurio. His terrible attempt at being comforting is actually rather sweet. But what is it with these Russians and not knowing how to handle people?

 

Yuuri has settled into resigned determination by the time Victor finishes with Yakov. 

 

“I wish I could be here with you,” Victor sighs, gathering Yuuri into his arms and holding him close. 

 

It’d be so easy to just hold onto him and never let him go. Yuuri allows himself only a minute or two, though. Victor needs to catch a plane. 

 

“Victor, you need to go if you want to make your flight,” Yuuri says, muffled where his face is buried in Victor’s shoulder. 

 

Victor whines reluctantly but lets go. He steals one last kiss before digging through his pockets. 

 

“Yuuri, give me your hand.” 

 

Yuuri does without any hesitation. Victor writes on his palm in confident strokes, giving Yuuri a dizzying sense of dejavu. 

 

_ I love you, _ it says, in English, and also presumably Russian, though Yuuri can’t read cyrillic.  

 

“So that I’m with you,” Victor murmurs. 

 

Yuuri is going to start crying again. He gently takes the marker from Victor and returns the favor. The kanji look stark against the lightness of Victor’s palm, but Yuuri finds comfort in it. 

 

He still cries when Victor walks away.

 

*

 

Stepping off the ice, Yuuri knows that this wasn’t his best performance of  _ Yuuri on Ice _ , but he can’t bring himself to be too upset about it. It took everything he had to finish it, and when his knees hit the ice at the end, it was out of sheer exhaustion.

 

Yakov isn’t yelling, which is as good as praise. He guides Yuuri by his elbow to the kiss and cry, and is shockingly kind about hugging Yuuri in return. 

 

It’s a bandaid on the gaping wound that is Victor’s absence. 

 

Yuuri misses the podium, so he’s free to frantically scroll his phone for messages. There’s several from his parents and Yuuko, but it’s the picture from Mari that matters. 

 

The caption says, ‘they’re both ok’ but it’s seeing that soothes Yuuri. In the picture, Victor is cradling Makkachin, head bowed so that his nose is buried in Makkachin’s curls. 

 

He could start crying right here in the hallway, but there are too many people. 

 

Sara Crispino spots him first, starting a chain of desperate hugs that culminates in Yuuri chasing Yurio down a hallway. 

 

“Knock it off, Katsudon!” he snarls. 

 

Yuuri stops and rediverts, changing quickly before heading outside to escape all the noise. His lungs scream as the icy Russian air rushes into them; it chases away some of the fog in his head. He needs to call Victor, although he’s not sure what the time difference is between here and Japan. 

 

He’s been outside longer than he probably should be when a small tornado crashes into him, knocking him to the ground.

 

“Catch, dumbass!” Yurio yells, and Yuuri barely has the presence of mind to close his fingers around the object hurtled at him. 

 

It’s a brown paper bag, spotted with grease. Yurio glares at him impatiently as Yuuri peeks into the bag. It’s… food?

 

“It’s your birthday isn’t it? Eat!” 

 

Yuuri blinks, but Yurio insists with enough intensity that he caves. And he’s glad he does, because whatever this is, it’s delicious. 

 

“These are amazing, Yuri!” he says around what’s probably an impolite sized mouthful of food. 

 

Yurio smiles for what Yuuri swears is the first time he’s seen, and it’s as if the sun has come out at night. He’s soft when he smiles, looking more his age.

 

“Katsudon pirozhki, my grandfather made them,” he says, extremely pleased with himself.

 

“He’s a very good cook, thank you Yuri.”

 

Yuri hums contentedly until he spots something on Yuuri’s hand. “What’s that?” 

 

“Huh?” Yuuri turns his palm over, revealing the note from Victor. “Oh. Victor wrote it before he caught his flight.” 

 

“Gross,” Yurio pantomimes barfing. “You should go inside before you catch a cold, you weakling.” 

 

More concern packaged as a jab. Yuuri is finally getting a grasp on Yurio’s love language: insults. 

 

“Okay,” Yuuri agrees. “Let’s go get some dinner.” 

 

“Who said I wanted to have dinner with you?” Yurio grumbles, but follows him inside anyway. 

 

As much as Yuuri wants to hole up in his room until his flight, this will be better. Yurio is pleasant enough company when Victor isn’t antagonizing him, and Yuuri shouldn’t be alone right now. He’ll be home with Victor soon, he reminds himself, over and over. Soon. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the point in the fic where I was just having the time of my life making little callbacks to things that happened in the beginning. there's... a lot of references. and of course, making terrible puns because I can. 
> 
> All we have left now is the last chapter and the epilogue, which are from both POVs because listen... disciplining myself into sticking with one POV per chapter this long was a Struggle.


	16. Together

_ [Hasetsu, November 18, 2022] _

 

Victor fidgets in his seat, eyes on the arrivals gate as Makkachin snoozes at his feet. The last forty-eight hours have sapped him of energy, leaving him more zombie than person. 

 

He’s grateful, despite everything. Makkachin is recovering well, and Yuuri managed to qualify for the Grand Prix Final — even without Victor there with him. 

 

The separation hurts nonetheless. Walking away from Yuuri was one of the hardest things he’s ever done. 

 

Makkachin bolts upright and jumps at the glass, slipping away as Victor tries to grab his scruff. He’d forgone the collar today to avoid putting pressure on Makkachin’s still healing throat. Generally, Makkachin is well-behaved enough that he doesn’t have to worry about him straying far. 

 

Not today, apparently. 

 

“Makka!” Victor scolds, but the barking draws his eyes upward and then he sees. 

 

Yuuri locks gazes with him, and then they’re both running like their lives depend on it. Makkachin is faster, and by the time Victor catches up, the dog is coating Yuuri in slobber. 

 

Yuuri looks up when he hears footsteps, and suddenly Victor can breathe again. 

 

It’s a miracle neither one of them trip over Makkachin as they crash together. Victor isn’t sure who’s holding on harder, but he can smell the sweet, familiar hints of Yuuri’s shampoo. 

 

“I missed you,” Victor says, and  _ oh _ Yuuri is crying. “I have ideas for how to coach you better.” 

 

“Please be my coach until I retire,” Yuuri mumbles around his tears. 

 

“That sounds like a marriage proposal, Yuuri,” Victor purrs, his entire being on fire at the thought. 

 

Marrying Yuuri. There’s nothing better he could think of in the entire universe. 

 

“Please never retire,” Victor murmurs. 

 

There’s a furious blush on Yuuri’s cheeks, and he hides his face in the shoulder of Victor’s jacket. More importantly, however, he doesn’t say no. 

 

That gives Victor a lot to think about.

 

For now, his only priority is to hustle them home so that he can curl up with Yuuri and Makkachin and sleep peacefully for the first time in nearly three days. 

 

Mari, who Victor is certain must be his guardian angel in disguise, promised to have food ready for them. 

 

“Let’s go home,” Yuuri murmurs, tucking himself into Victor’s side so that they can walk together. 

 

Victor swears he’s never heard sweeter words.

 

_ [Grand Prix Final, Barcelona, December, 2022] _

 

It’s easy to goad Victor into taking him sightseeing. Truthfully, once Yuuri realized that all it took was a little confidence, Victor became putty in his hands.

 

He tries not to abuse it too much, but today, Yuuri wants to see what Barcelona has to offer. 

 

Victor is an enthusiastic if not distractible tour guide.

 

“So pretty,” he sighs over just about everything, even Yuuri. 

 

Actually, especially Yuuri. It makes Yuuri flush as Victor fawns over clothes and trinkets he tries to put on Yuuri. 

 

“But Yuuri,” Victor pouts when Yuuri puts his foot down on the shopping and Victor dressing him.

 

“Your birthday is coming up, not mine,” Yuuri points out. 

 

That only magnifies the pout. “But I wasn’t there to celebrate with you for yours!”

 

“This is more than enough for me, Victor,” Yuuri says softly. 

 

Victor opens his mouth and then closes it, thinking better of whatever he was going to say. He capture’s Yuuri’s hand and twines their fingers together. 

 

“Okay,” he says, and Yuuri breathes out a sigh of relief.

 

“Let’s go check out the Christmas market,” Yuuri suggests, and Victor happily goes along with it.

 

Yuuri wasn’t lying when he said this was more than enough for him. A year ago—almost exactly—he was in a dark place. 

 

His life now isn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s happy. He’s finally skating the way he’s always wanted, and Victor…

 

He wants to get Victor something that represents how much he means to Yuuri. 

 

Keeping his eyes peeled as they wander, he soaks in the market. The sun has gone down and the lights blink cheerfully on every booth, cozy despite the chill in the air. 

 

And then Yuuri catches sight of a store and  _ knows _ . What could possibly say  _ undying love _ better than a ring? 

 

Victor doesn’t protest over being dragged into the jewelry store. Yuuri takes his time picking exactly what he wants, but Victor, once he realizes what’s going on, is fast about it. 

 

They leave the store with two gold rings, tucked carefully into small pouches. Yuuri’s shaking with nerves but Victor is externally calm, his emotions betrayed only by the shine in his blue eyes. 

 

When they stop in front of the church, Yuuri knows this is the moment. 

 

“I—” Yuuri starts, and has to stop and collect himself. “I wanted to get you something that represents what you mean to me. Those feelings are too big for any object but… this is as close as it gets.”

 

Victor listens, watching him with such rapt attention that Yuuri feels like he might faint on the spot. 

 

He pulls the ring out and reaches for Victor’s hand, sliding it onto his finger with care. 

 

“Oh, my Yuuri,” Victor murmurs, at a loss for words. 

 

He collects himself with a deep breath and produces the other ring. Yuuri can feel the tremble in his hands as the ring settles into place, Victor’s hands enveloping his own. 

 

It’s good to know that Victor is nervous too. 

 

“So….” Yuuri ventures, his voice wobbling with a mixture of joy and anxiety.

 

Victor says nothing, holding Yuuri’s gaze for what feels like an eternity. And then it snaps and Victor scoops him into the most frantic kiss Yuuri’s ever experienced. 

 

Fingers trace his cheekbones and tangle into his hair, frenzied but ever so gentle. Yuuri leans forward, circling Victor’s lithe torso and tugging him close. 

 

He remembers, belatedly, that they’re in a very public place. It’s with no small amount of reluctance that Yuuri pulls back, leaving a featherlight kiss on the tip of Victor’s nose. 

 

A soft flush spreads from the spot across Victor’s cheeks and turns Yuuri’s insides to mush. 

 

“Tell me something to help me win tomorrow,” he murmurs, drawing Victor’s attention. 

 

“Yuuri, show me the skating you love the most,” Victor says, a steady fire burning in his eyes. 

 

Yuuri lifts his chin, the familiar determination settling in. “I will.” 

 

Victor smiles, leaning in to place a long, lingering kiss on Yuuri’s lips. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’d be a terrible coach if I didn’t feed you the night before a competition.”

 

The statement elicits a quiet chuckle from Yuuri. When it comes to Victor’s flaws as a coach, he would consider that to be the least of them.  

 

“Let’s walk and see if there’s anything on the way back to the hotel,” Yuuri suggests, and Victor agreeably takes his hand. 

 

“It’s been a while since I’ve worn anything on this finger,” Victor muses, admiring the ring as they walk. 

 

He’s supposed to be keeping a lookout for somewhere to have dinner, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to scold.  

 

“What did you wear before?” Yuuri asks curiously. 

 

Victor turns his hand over, contemplating. “It was only for a season, but I wore a blue cord that a fan had given me. I’m not sure what happened to it.”

 

Yuuri glances down, but several warm layers cover the bracelet he’s worn on his wrist for years. That’s just as well, it can’t possibly be the same cord. 

 

They stumble upon Mari and Minako first, and then it becomes a party as they collect the other competitors one by one. Even Yurio joins them, placated by the presence of his new friend Otabek Altin. 

 

It’s a pleasant affair until Christophe takes it upon himself to air Yuuri’s dirty laundry. Victor is practically choking on his drink in shock, and Yuuri is ready to flee the room. 

 

He had a drunken dance off with Yurio, and also Christophe on a  _ pole.  _ He danced with  _ Victor _ and didn’t remember it. 

 

“Never again, Katsudon,” Yurio hisses, an amused Otabek watching from the sidelines.

 

Yuuri is ready to sink into the floor, only to have Christophe ice the cake while pictures of his shame circle the table. Phichit, he knows, is sending every single one to himself. 

 

“So what’s with the rings you guys are wearing?” Christophe drawls, casual despite the mischievous gleam in his eye. 

 

He’s enjoying this way too much. 

 

“We’re engaged!” Victor beams, and  _ damn _ Yuuri might as well give up now because Phichit is yelling the news to the whole restaurant. 

 

“Fairytale ending, Yuuri?” Phichit mouths across the table. 

 

Yuuri glares daggers at him. Phichit has a steel trap memory, of course he’d recall that conversation. He’d best know Yuuri will kill him in his sleep if he ever brings it up to Victor. 

 

“We’re getting married when Yuuri wins gold,” Victor says, and the whole table goes silent. 

 

Definitely not tactful on Victor’s part, considering all of them want to win gold. It gets awkward after that, so everyone makes excuses to leave, dodging JJ on their way out. 

 

It’s mean of Yuuri to be glad that Victor accidentally broke up the party, but he’s too grateful to be escaping to care. 

 

“I’ll talk to you later, Yuuri!” Phichit yells as they go their separate ways. 

 

In Phichit speak, it means ‘I’ll grill you later!’

 

Yuuri shudders, leaning into Victor’s side. That won’t be fun.

 

“Time for bed?” Victor hums. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Yuuri isn’t sure how well he’s going to sleep with his anxiety over tomorrow’s skate returning, but at least curling up in bed with Victor will be nice. 

 

*

 

“So you’re marrying that idiot,” Yurio scoffs, planting his foot in Victor’s back for the umpteenth time. 

 

Victor holds steady. He’s been subjected to Yurio’s prodding for long enough that he knows how to angle himself to avoid getting hit anywhere vital. 

 

“I am marrying Yuuri, yes,” Victor confirms, refusing to humor Yurio by taking his eyes off the waves. 

 

He was feeling disquiet this morning and sought out the familiarity of the shore. 

 

“It’s like Hasetsu,” Yurio observes in a rare moment of candidness, distracted from his spite. 

 

“I thought so too,” Victor smiles. 

 

They’re a long way from both Hasetsu and St. Petersburg, but the rhythmic crash of the surf sings of home. 

 

Yurio crosses his arms stubbornly across his chest and leans against the railing. He opens his mouth, and Victor should have known the moment was too good to last. 

 

“Are you seriously going to give up your whole skating career for that pig?” Yurio growls at the ground. 

 

It’s a question that many people have asked him, and Victor doesn’t quite understand. Why is it so hard for people to believe that he’d permanently give up competing for Yuuri? 

 

Maybe his press face has become a poker face, and no one can read the emotions underneath. He’s sure that at the end of last season even strangers could see how far he was slipping. Yakov knew, Christophe guessed. Little Yurio, for all his social ineptitude, recognized it. 

 

Victor wonders if Yuuri saw and knew. Yuuri is excellent at seeing through him. 

 

“What’s so wrong about that, Yurio?” he asks, ignoring the disgruntled hiss over the nickname. “You do like to remind me of how old I am. Why wouldn’t I retire healthy to coach the man I love?”

 

Yurio kicks hard enough at the ground that Victor worries about his health.

 

“You’re not that old, dumbass,” Yurio snarls, one narrowed eye peeking out from beneath his bangs. “And I’m going to win this whole damn thing. You’ll have to come back if you want to hold onto your title as Russia’s hero.” 

 

Victor laughs. “You’ll have to beat Yuuri, first.”

 

And if that doesn’t stoke the fire in Yurio’s eyes… Victor wonders if Yurio would have ever reached these heights were it not for Yuuri. 

 

“I’ll beat him too, just you wait,” he snaps. “You’ll see tomorrow.” 

 

He stalks off then, hackles up in a way that’s reminiscent of his beloved cat. Victor watches him go. Teenagers are so difficult. 

 

It’s time to go wake Yuuri.

 

*

 

The pressure is on. 

 

Yuuri can feel it crawling under his skin, heightening his anxiety. This is what he’s been working so hard to accomplish—what Victor promised him. 

 

The hug bolsters him; sets steel in his spine that he hopes will carry him through. 

 

He lifts his right hand to his mouth as he steps out on the ice, cool metal brushing his lips. It’s now or never.

 

His short program has become second nature. The only thing he thinks of is making it impossible for Victor to tear his eyes away. A pork cutlet bowl fatale. Or something. 

 

It’s good, but it’s not his best, and Yuuri knows it the second he steps off the ice. He’s skated that program so much better, but he can’t pin down what’s eating at him. He’ll just have to do better in the free skate tomorrow, that’s all. 

 

In striking contrast, Yurio is in peak form today. Victor recognizes it too, a smile blooming on his face. The younger Russian may be Yuuri’s greatest competition, but he wants to see the teenager do well. 

 

Yuuri and Victor get separated during the post-skate interviews, and when Yuuri finally escapes his reporters, Victor is in the stadium seating. 

 

There’s something in the way he stands, gaze fixed on the ice below, that makes Yuuri’s heart seize. The ice is Victor’s first love, he knows this. It’s part of the reason Yuuri admires him.

 

Ice in his blood and his heart.  

 

Yuuri fancies that he can see the yearning in the way Victor leans forward and tastes bitterness on his tongue. 

 

Having Victor as his coach was too good to be true. Victor belongs out on the ice, competing with the other top skaters in the world. 

 

He should have the chance to reclaim his record from the very smug Yurio. 

 

It will hurt. It will hurt, but Victor’s happiness would be worth it. And Yuuri can retire on a high note, rather than in shame. 

 

Resolve closes his throat up. He’ll end this, for Victor.

 

*

 

“Victor, we need to talk,” Yuuri says from his seat on the edge of the bed. 

 

It’s precarious, like the conversation they’re teetering into. Victor towels his hair dry, tilting his head so that the water from his shower drips off.

 

“Sure, Yuuri. What’s up?”

 

He’s warm and relaxed, still riding the high from yesterday’s day of sightseeing. A delighted jolt goes through him every time his ring glints in the light, reminding him of just how lucky he is. 

 

“I think we should end this after tomorrow,” Yuuri says. “You only said to the final, after all. I’m going to retire then.” 

 

The room is silent as Victor holds his breath, waiting for the rest. An explanation at least. Nothing comes. 

 

A single tear rolls down Victor’s cheek, and is soon followed by a flood of them. Victor’s not a crier; never has been. But there’s too many feelings in his chest to contain. 

 

It’s a nightmare come true. 

 

He’s been afraid of losing Yuuri even before it became a conscious thought, and now it’s happening. Yuuri reaches up to brush the wetness on his cheek, wondering and unremorseful. 

 

Hurt, Victor yanks his head back.

 

“What are you doing, Yuuri?” 

 

Yuuri’s brown eyes are bottomless. “I’ve never seen you cry.” 

 

“I’m upset,” Victor snaps, curling in on himself. “Why? Why do you want to end this?”

 

He honestly can’t remember the last time he admitted out loud to being anything other than perfect. He’s gotten so good at deflecting and hiding his weaknesses that he stopped confessing his hurts. 

 

Finally, that horribly blank look leaves Yuuri’s face. Instead he looks down, wringing his hands. 

 

“I’m holding you back, Victor. You should be out there competing right now.” His jaw sets stubbornly. “I know you miss it, don’t tell me you don’t.” 

 

Victor angrily swipes the tears away with the edge of the towel he’d used on his hair. “I never thought Yuuri could be so selfish, trying to make my decisions for me.” 

 

Yuuri gapes at him, aghast, and Victor has the horrible urge to laugh. He swallows it instead and sinks down on the edge of the bed, pulling his bangs back from his face. 

 

“I do miss skating,” Victor confesses, watching the storm of emotions on Yuuri’s face. “Coaching you has made me realize that nothing would make me happier than to be out there with you.” 

 

“Victor—” Yuuri begins, but Victor holds up a hand to cut him off. 

 

“I found my love for skating again because of you, why would I go back if you’re not going to be there, Yuuri? What’s the point?”

 

Yuuri is crying now too—big, fat droplets that soak his face. “But you can’t both coach me and compete. I just want you to be happy, Victor.” 

 

_ Now there’s an idea _ .

 

“Yuuuuuuri,” Victor says, opening his arms. 

 

He’s still upset with Yuuri, without a doubt. But there’s a glimmer of hope there that he intends to hold onto. 

 

Yuuri hesitates briefly before caving, scooting over to lean into the comfort of the embrace.

 

“Who says I can’t do both?” he murmurs into Yuuri’s hair. 

 

There’s a soft noise of protest from Yuuri. “Because it’s too much for one person to manage.” 

 

“But I’m not an average skater, Yuuri.” 

 

“Victor,” Yuuri protests, unconvinced. 

 

Victor sighs. “Fine. I’ll think about my decision if you think about yours, and we’ll decide after the final is over.” 

 

Yuuri nods into his chest, so Victor leaves it at that. 

 

“No matter what we decide, I’m staying with you, Yuuri. If you’ll have me,” he says quietly as they get ready for bed. 

 

The ceiling is ideal for staring at with some sort of strange stucco pattern that he kinda hates. Yuuri makes an odd noise, rolling over to face Victor. 

 

“Did you think I meant something else?” he asks urgently. 

 

Victor shrugs, hiding his insecurity. “You weren’t very clear about what you were ending.” 

 

Yuuri looks terribly guilty as he digs around under the covers, searching for Victor’s hand. Locating it, he places a kiss on the ring that sits there. 

 

“I love you, Victor. I’m sorry I made you doubt that.” 

 

Victor presses a kiss to the side of Yuuri’s head. “I love you too.” 

 

They settle in for the night, Yuuri pillowing his head on Victor’s chest. He’s asleep surprisingly fast, considering his anxiety often keeps him up before competitions. 

 

But it’s Victor who remains awake, overthinking. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Yuuri decides to retire. Coaching him has allowed Victor stay connected to the ice, but still be happy. 

 

He won’t return to competing if Yuuri retires. He just won’t. There’s nothing left for him in competing except empty, meaningless medals. Yurio’s jibes and fierce skating won’t sustain him. 

 

But if Yuuri were to continue to compete… that would be interesting. 

 

Victor has a favor to ask Yuri Plisetsky, and he can only hope that the younger Russian will deliver.

 

*

 

They barely speak the morning of the free skate. 

 

Victor claims a pounding headache, his brows furrowed in pain, and Yuuri is focused on what he has to do. 

 

If this is going to be Yuuri’s goodbye to the skating world, he’s going to give it all he has. Which means changing the difficulty of several elements without telling Victor. 

 

Yuuri wouldn’t say that they’re fighting, but things aren’t quite right either. Not with the looming decisions. And, to top it all off, strange memories keep intruding on his focus. 

 

They flicker like a bad connection, not quite there enough to see clearly. Yuuri brushes them off and assumes his starting position at center ice. 

 

Bits and pieces of a time Yuuri didn’t know he’d forgotten click in as he glides into the opening steps of  _ Yuuri on Ice. _

 

This program is his skating career, told in the uplifting sway of the piano. New moments come into focus, nearly disrupting his concentration. 

 

Victor, present in a way Yuuri never considered possible. Pages and pages of skating notes and videos, encouraging words that push Yuuri to his limits as he tries to express the way his heart is bursting. 

 

All this time, and they’d forgotten.  _ His name, it’s Victor. _

 

_ Victor, Victor, Victor. _

 

There’s no hesitation as he sets himself up for the quad flip. He can do it, he knows it in his bones.

 

When his skate reconnects with the ice flawlessly, Yuuri can feel the tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. He holds it together until he strikes the final pose, and only then he allows himself to drop to his knees.

 

It’s the best he’s ever skated the program, he doesn’t need the judges to tell him that. The jumps were perfect and Yuuri couldn’t possibly have put any more of himself into the program. He feels good. 

 

Abruptly it hits him in the turmoil: he doesn’t want to retire. Not yet. Not now.

 

The feeling intensifies as he skates toward the exit and Victor’s waiting arms. No. He wants to keep this for as long as he can have it. 

 

“Yuuri,” Victor says his name like a prayer, awe and realization bundled into one. 

 

Yuuri flings himself into Victor’s waiting arms without hesitation. He’s winded and his legs feel like jelly; the memories are more than he can handle right now. 

 

“I’ll come back,” Victor whispers in his ear. “How could I not, when you’ve waited this long to skate on the same ice as me?”

 

“Victor, skate with me for another year,” Yuuri breathes. 

 

Victor helps him get his skate guards on, supporting more of Yuuri’s weight than is strictly necessary. 

 

“Not retiring?” he asks, lips curving into a blinding smile. 

 

“No, I want to continue skating, with you.” 

 

“That’s what I like to hear.”

 

The kiss and cry becomes a madhouse the moment Yuuri’s scores are announced.

 

_ How in the hell did he break Victor’s record? _

 

“My Yuri’s have really set me a challenge,” Victor muses teasingly, draping himself over Yuuri’s shoulders. “I’ll just have to take them back, I suppose.” 

 

He’s proud. Yuuri doesn’t need to be told when he can see it in Victor’s face. He’s glued to Victor’s side as the press swarms them, their fingers laced in solidarity. 

 

“Yuuri? Something strange is happening,” Victor murmurs when they have a breather before the medals. 

 

“Later,” Yuuri shakes his head. If he starts thinking about that now, his brain will melt. 

 

A world record, it seems, is not enough to beat Yurio, who also attained a world record.

 

Yuuri wanted gold, but silver isn’t bad either. It reminds him absurdly of Victor’s hair. He drags a reluctant Yurio into photos, pretending he doesn’t see the significant look that passes between his two Russians. 

 

“I don’t want a stupid photo with you, Katsudon, I won,” Yurio snipes, but manages to look a fraction less pissed when the flash goes off.

 

Yuuri will enjoy this moment, and deal with the rest later. He’s earned that much. 

  
  


*

 

Everything is a daze. Victor doesn’t get to talk to Yuuri because of interviews and the medal ceremony. 

 

Yurio grins gleefully at top of the podium, exceptionally pleased with himself. He pulled it off, then: won to keep Yuuri from retiring prematurely. Victor should probably be scared about the debt he now owes the teenager, but he’s too relieved to care. 

 

Besides, he knows that Yurio also had more selfish reasons for pushing himself that hard. He didn’t want to see Yuuri retire any more than Victor did. 

 

It’s funny to watch Yurio deny just how much he looks up to Yuuri. 

 

Victor has things other than Yurio to worry about, however. Starting with the fact that five years ago, he and Yuuri somehow switched bodies and he didn’t remember until now. 

 

“Yuuri...” he says lowly, keeping his arm looped around Yuuri’s waist as they finally,  _ finally _ head back to their hotel. 

 

Yuuri exhales shakily, leaning into Victor’s touch. All Victor wants to do is bundle him up and snuggle while the world keeps spinning separately from them. 

 

“I don’t know, Victor,” he whispers. “I didn’t remember until I got out on the ice.” 

 

The elevator ride up to their room is thick with unspoken questions. Victor can feel them crawling up his spine, ready to leap off the tip of his tongue. 

 

But he waits. 

 

He understands Yuuri well enough to know that prodding when he’s anxious isn’t the answer, especially not after a day as emotional as today. Yuuri will talk when he’s ready. 

 

Victor closes the hotel door room behind them and watches Yuuri’s shoulders sag in relief. 

 

“I’m going to take a shower,” Yuuri mumbles, shrugging off his warmups. 

 

His costume glitters underneath and Victor steps forward, smoothing his hand over the back of Yuuri’s neck before pausing over the zipper for his costume.

 

“Let me?”

 

It’s a question rather than a command, an opportunity for Yuuri to take control and decide. 

 

Victor has learned, slowly, small ways to help Yuuri. The hardest part is when he can’t help at all, but Victor is learning to deal with that too. 

 

“Please,” Yuuri sighs, and Victor sets to work, gently divesting him of the costume. 

 

The act is intimate but not sexual—a show of trust. They’ve seen each other naked plenty in the onsen, and, as Victor remembers in a brief flash: they’ve been naked as each other. 

 

It’s tilts his world on its side, but Victor’s hands remain steady. 

 

“There,” he says, quietly. “I’ll find your pajamas for you, if you want?”

 

Yuuri hums assent and turns, tipping his chin up as he silently asks for a kiss. Victor obliges him with a soft press of the lips that warms him to his toes. 

 

And then Yuuri disappears into the bathroom in a brief flash of skin, leaving Victor alone in the main part of the room. 

 

Holding the new memories at bay is harder when he’s alone, so he lets them ease in bit by bit as he locates Yuuri’s pajamas. 

 

They’re not too exciting, at first. Victor is amused that he’d been enamored with Yuuri before even meeting him. Vicchan is a bittersweet part of it too. He makes a mental note to leave something at the dog’s shrine when they return to Japan. 

 

Remembering everything is like following a winding path, stopping to look at whatever catches his attention. 

 

A lot of it is just his and Yuuri’s day to day life. 

 

Victor’s frankly surprised that they managed to pull it off, especially Yuuri competing as him. He wonders if he looked for that footage, would it exist? Or does it exist in another time entirely?

 

He sets Yuuri’s pajamas on the edge of the bed and sits down beside them. 

 

Every moment of dejavu that he’s experienced since his arrival in Hasetsu make sense now. 

 

A younger but equally as friendly Yuuko, who even then he considered a friend. Mari, who knew and offered to be his pseudo-sibling not once, but twice. Hiroko and Toshiyo, who are the parents he wishes he had. 

 

There are already tears gathering in his eyes when Yuuri comes out for his pajamas. While he’s normally quite happy to drink in Yuuri in all forms, Victor can’t help but see him as younger and softer than what he currently is. 

 

And then the worst of it comes back to him. 

 

The first time he set foot in Hasetsu as himself, when he thought Yuuri was dead and beyond his reach. Yuuri and Mari and all of the people he now loves, gone. 

 

“Victor? Victor why are you crying?” Yuuri asks, dropping to his knees in front of Victor. 

 

Victor hides his face in his hands as a sob shudders out of him. There was a world, timeline? that didn’t have Yuuri in it, and he’d lived it. 

 

“You died. All of you died, I remember,” he chokes out, and Yuuri stands, arms going around Victor. 

 

It makes no sense, and he can’t explain it, but he  _ knows _ it was real. With his face tucked against the softness of Yuuri’s stomach, he lets the tears roll unchecked. 

 

Yuuri’s fingers move gently in his hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion. 

 

“But we’re here, Victor. We’re here because you didn’t give up on me.” 

 

Victor makes a valiant effort at getting himself together as Yuuri buries his nose is silver locks, dripping tears onto Victor’s scalp.

 

“How could I give up on you, my Yuuri, when you’re the light of my life?” 

 

Yuuri makes a keening noise in the back of his throat and pushes him back on the bed so that they’re nothing but a tangle of limbs. Victor clings back in return, cradling Yuuri’s head against his chest. 

 

Their shared warmth blends into one entity and Victor gives up on trying to make sense of it all. The only thing he needs to know is that Yuuri is not only his future, but is his past as well. 

 

“Yuuri… Yuuri did you know you’ve been inspiring my skating for the last five years?” Victor laughs wetly. 

 

The world, wonderful and magical as it is, brought them here. To a hotel room, five years after Yuuri should have died when the comet hit Hasetsu. If that isn’t fate, Victor doesn’t know what is. 

 

He does know that Yuuri has been influencing his skating since their first switch. In turn, he’s been influencing Yuuri’s skating even longer. 

 

“Shut up,” Yuuri mutters, pressing his cold nose into the side of Victor’s neck. “You know, I wondered why that freckle on your hip was so familiar.” 

 

“You noticed my freckle Yuuri?!?!” 

 

“Victor,” Yuuri says, a touch exasperated. His tone says  _ of course I noticed _ and destroys Victor on the spot. 

 

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor breathes, unable to contain his delight. 

 

“You haven’t killed the houseplant I got you?” Yuuri asks, and Victor shakes his head emphatically. 

 

“Nope! It’s gotten pretty big. I still can’t believe you didn’t think I could handle a cactus.” 

 

“You definitely couldn’t.”

 

Victor dissolves into playful whining until Yuuri kisses him silent. A comfortable quiet settles in as they lay together, letting this new reality settle in. 

 

“Hey Victor?” Yuuri ventures. 

 

“Mmmm?” 

 

“I love you. More than anything.”

 

Victor can’t help it, he starts crying again. They’re silent tears, sliding down his face without attracting attention, but they’re not sad. 

 

He has a home, and he has a family that loves him for who he is, not what he does. The Russian skating group and Yakov are his family too, but… the Katsuki’s know little about skating. They love him because he’s Victor, Yuuri’s boyfriend-turned-fiance, not Victor Nikiforov, skating legend. 

 

“I love you too, my Yuuri,” he says, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. 

 

Yuuri squirms until they’re laying on their sides facing each other, and takes his time tenderly swiping away what remains of the tears. 

 

“Tomorrow… skate with me? During the exhibition?” he blurts. “Like we practiced?”

 

“Of course. I always want you to stay close to me, Yuuri,” Victor answers. 

 

It’s fitting. Stammi Vicino was originally choreographed to portray Victor’s longing, and now… it can showcase how dearly he wants to hold on to what he’s found. 

 

A door closes, and Victor looks forward to his future, hand in hand with Yuuri. 

 

*

 

Yuuri lands the third jump easily and spins, arm outstretched to catch Victor as he joins him on the ice. 

 

Spotlights beaming down on them blend together in purples and blues, reminiscent of a different night, five years ago. 

 

The same colors—a second beginning. 

 

They move in sync, intertwining and then regaining space, until Victor lifts him. This was the part they’d been most concerned about, but Victor’s hands are firm on his waist, and Yuuri trusts him with his life. 

 

Skating this way—together—is the physical embodiment of Yuuri’s happiness. The lyrics he knows by heart settle over the rink, a soft blanket rather than a heavy weight. 

 

Stammi Vicino is no longer about yearning; no longer about the loneliness Victor kept hidden away. Yuuri can see it in Victor’s eyes as he cups his cheek, one arm curled around Victor’s waist. 

 

It’s a promise. 

 

A promise to hold each other close. 

 

After everything, nearly six years later (depending on who’s time you’re considering), they’re together. And Yuuri will be damned if he ever lets go. It’s reflected back at him in Victor’s face: the way the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile as he looks at Yuuri. 

 

Victor’s most real smiles are heart-shaped and all-encompassing, and as they strike their final pose, his vision fills with one such smile. 

 

Yuuri is breathless, and becomes even more so as Victor leans in to steal a kiss. The audience is loud to the point where Yuuri can’t think, but thankfully, he doesn’t need to. 

 

They skate hand in hand to the exit, towards Yakov and the world that is about to see them do it all. Together. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. It's hard to believe that only the epilogue is left after this. I think this chapter as a whole was the most challenging to write, so I hope it pulls everything together just right. The epilogue will follow on Thursday with soft things about Yuuri and Victor's life post GPF :')


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the epilogue! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this ride <3 And to Spud for being the best cheerleader around :')

_ [Hasetsu, December 11, 2022] _

 

“Yuuuriiii, are you sure about this? We don’t have to move.”

 

“Don’t be silly Victor, this is the only way to make it work.”

 

Victor subsides, but his expression is pensive as he looks back at Hasetsu. “I’m going to miss it.”

 

“We’ll be back,” Yuuri promises.

 

Victor is leaving first. Russian nationals are too soon for him to put it off. Yuuri already aches at the thought of them being apart, even for a few weeks, but this isn’t something they can avoid. He’ll follow just as soon as Japanese Nationals are over, hopefully in time for Victor’s birthday. 

 

Half his things are already packed and ready for the move to St. Petersburg. 

 

As much as they would have liked to stay in Hasetsu, Yakov is based out of St. Petersburg, and it’s the only way for Victor to both coach and compete. Yuuri is nervous but excited for the move, because sharing a home with Victor is all he could ever want. 

 

“Don’t disappear on me, Yuuri,” Victor sighs as they stand just short of airport security, wrapped in each other’s arms. 

 

“I won’t,” Yuuri promises, feeling like he’s going to cry. 

 

Now that they both remember the first time they had to separate, it’s harder to say goodbyes like this. Yuuri won’t forget, not again, but the possibility scares him all the same. 

 

Victor lifts Yuuri’s hand to his mouth and places the tenderest of kisses on his ring. Yuuri sniffs but holds it together, just barely. 

 

“I love you,” he says, and Victor smiles his heart-shaped smile. 

 

“I love you too. It won’t be for long.”

 

Rationally, Yuuri knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier. He stoops, ruffling Makkachin’s ears before standing up again. 

 

There’s only an hour before Victor’s flight, and he needs to clear security. He’s already turning toward the line when Yuuri catches him by the collar of his jacket and hauls him into one last searing kiss. 

 

“I’ll see you soon, Vitya,” he says, and leaves a stunned Victor to go through security so that he won’t be seen crying in public. 

 

Only a few weeks. That’s all. 

 

*

_ [St. Petersburg, December 17, 2022] _

 

**Christoph-bae** : u hanging in there?

 

**Vicky** : no

 

**Vicky** : I’m dead Chris ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚

 

**Christoph-bae** : that’s a shame

 

**Christoph-bae** : guess I only have to worry about the yuris at worlds then

 

**Vicky** : WHY R U SO MEAN TO ME

 

**Christoph-bae** : (~˘▽˘)~

 

**Vicky** : whyyyyy

 

**Vicky** : Yakov is already working me into the ground

 

**Vicky** : and Yuuri isn’t here ｡ﾟ･ (>﹏<) ･ﾟ｡

 

**Christoph-bae** : you sad, sad man

 

**Vicky** : I’ll tell Yuuri you’re bullying me

 

**Christoph-bae** : wow that’s low

 

**Vicky** : you were mean to me first

 

**Christoph-bae** : chill ur tatas. ur man will be with you in what, a week?

 

**Vicky** : THAT’S TOO LONG

 

**Christoph-bae** : not as long as i’ve waited for you to explain Hasetsu

 

**Vicky** : ...touche. we need drinks for that though

 

**Christoph-bae** : u WILL tell me

 

**Vicky** : uh huh 

 

**Christoph-bae** : I won’t let you wax poetic about Yuuri anymore if u don’t

 

**Vicky** : fine...

 

*

 

_ [Hasetsu, December 19, 2022] _

 

“You know Yuuri, I think you’re only Skyping me this often because you miss Victor,” Phichit taps his chin. 

 

It is, admittedly, the second time they’ve video-chatted this week already. And considering that Yuuri is usually impossible to get ahold of…

 

“You’re my best friend, Phichit!” Yuuri protests, trying not to look too guilty. 

 

Phichit knowingly waggles his eyebrows at the camera. “Oh I know that, Yuuri. But if you miss him this much, why aren’t you video calling him instead?”

 

Yuuri exhales heavily and rubs a hand over his face. “I do call him, but don’t want to distract him too much when he needs to be preparing for Russian Nationals.”

 

“But it’s okay to distract me from my training?” 

 

It was intended to be teasing, but Phichit waves his hands frantically as Yuuri pales, looking absolutely horrified.

 

“No no no. It’s a joke, Yuuri. You’re not distracting me,” Phichit reassures him. “I know that the time difference for us isn’t as bad as the one between Japan and Russia.”

 

Yuuri pulls the collar of his sweater up over his nose and tries to remember how to breathe. It’s one of Victor’s, though it only smells faintly of him after a few days of laying in Yuuri’s bed. 

 

“Two vs. six,” Yuuri mumbles in agreement. “I wish it wasn’t so much.” 

 

Phichit makes a soft, sympathetic noise. “Only a few more days. Minako is coaching you for the Japanese Nationals, right?” 

 

Nodding, Yuuri twists to squint at the calendar on the wall. Japanese Nationals are in three days, and the Russian ones are in five. Just shy of a week, then, till he gets to see Victor again. He has to send most of his stuff for shipping tomorrow, a prospect he’s not looking forward to. 

 

Yuuri doesn’t like the thought of enduring a competition without Victor, but Minako has always been steady at his side. He’s also taken Yakov’s advice from Rostelecom, and has been practicing what to do if he flubs a jump or falls. 

 

“You’ll do fine,” Phichit says fondly. “You and your fairytale fiance are something to marvel at.” 

 

“Would you let that go already?” Yuuri complains. 

 

Telling Phichit the whole story was a way of getting Yuuri’s thoughts in order. Mari knows, but she has too many of her own opinions and missing memories. Phichit is an unbiased listener who isn’t connected to any of it.

 

He also loves to live vicariously through Yuuri, and was practically catatonic after hearing about the body-swapping. ‘So you saw Victor naked? Scandalous, Yuuri!’ 

 

“I can’t believe he was basically wearing a ring from you before you even spoke properly,” Phichit sighs dreamily. “Need me a partner like that.”

 

Yuuri touches the bracelet on his wrist unconsciously. It’s worn now, barely clinging to life, and only just so because Yuuri has taken very good care of it. 

 

The action causes his ring to catch in the light, and Yuuri feels suddenly calmer. 

 

“Thanks for talking to me, Phichit.”

 

“Huh? You’re my best friend Yuuri, I’m here for you no matter what.” 

 

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?”

 

Phichit grins. “Hmm, maybe. But I like hearing it so you call tell me again.”

 

That teases a laugh out of Yuuri. “You’re the best, Phichit.”

 

He lets Phichit regale him with stories about his rink mates and Thailand until his eyes are too heavy to keep open, and he finally hangs up to sleep. 

 

Yuuri is lucky in the people who surround him, and he’ll always be grateful. 

 

*

 

_ [St. Petersburg, December 24, 2022] _

 

“What’s taking stupid Katsudon so long?” Yurio complains, propped up against the railing of the bridge. 

 

He pretends it’s to look cool, but Victor knows it’s because Yakov was brutal on them this morning. Even after Russian Nationals, their coach still pushes them hard. 

 

“It’s because you’re taking two days off to move your fiance in, Vitya,” Yakov had scolded when Victor complained. 

 

Yurio had of course asked why he was getting tortured too, and only got a raised eyebrow and a ‘Because I said so.’ 

 

It was thanks to this early and brutal practice that Victor wasn’t able to meet Yuuri at the airport. He’s more than a little bitter about it, but the airport is on the far end of the city from the rink. 

 

They agreed to meet here because Victor likes to be romantic, and it considering it’s a landmark, most taxis can find it easily. And that’s factoring Yuuri’s poor Russian into account. 

 

“Traffic? His flight got in on time, I checked,” Victor answers, phone gripped tightly in his hands. 

 

He’s not even sure why Yurio wanted to come, but only let him stay after he promised to take pictures of their reunion. It’s a moment Victor wants to cherish. 

 

“Hey, dumbass?” Yurio snaps him out of his daze. “I think that’s him.”

 

Victor’s gaze zips to where Yurio is pointing, and sure enough, there he is. Yuuri is dressed as he always does when he travels: a soft beanie, a mask covering his face, and the most comfortable clothes he can wear on a plane. 

 

Travel worn and exhausted, Victor thinks he looks beautiful. 

 

“Yuuuuuurrriiiii!” Victor yells, even though Yuuri’s surely spotted him. 

 

He’s only towing a backpack, since everything else had been shipped ahead. Victor had such fun brainstorming places for all of Yuuri’s things. 

 

Victor throws his arms wide open as Yuuri starts running, and is positively ecstatic when a soft but solid force collides with him. 

 

“Hello my love,” he sighs happily, nuzzling his face into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. 

 

“Vitya,” Yuuri breathes in return. “I missed you.” 

 

The diminutive is very new, but it sends delightful shivers down Victor’s spine every time Yuuri says it. 

 

“I missed you too, so much,” Victor smiles. “Did you have a good flight? Are you hungry? We can stop and get food on the way home.” 

 

Yuuri starts laughing, his shoulders shaking. In the background, Yurio is making disgusted noises. 

 

“I’m okay, Vitya. Ready for a nap, I think,” Yuuri says, finally stepping back from the embrace. He takes Victor’s hand instead though, unwilling to let go completely. “Oh, hi Yurio! How is your training going?”

 

Yurio, who was growing visibly irritated at being forgotten, stares wide-eyed over his phone camera. 

 

“Good! I’m going to beat your ass at Worlds,” he remembers then, that Victor also counts towards that. “And his decrepit ass as well!

 

Yuuri smiles lopsidedly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to make you work for it then.” 

 

“YOU’RE ON, KATSUDON!”

 

Victor winces at the volume. “How about we head home now? I’m sure Makkachin would love to see you.” 

 

Yurio, who is fuming, takes this as his cue to go. “I’ll text you the pictures later, moron. You owe me!”

 

Waving a hand dismissively, Victor pretends he isn’t watching to make sure that Yurio crosses the street safely. 

 

“Home, huh?” Yuuri says, a soft look on his face. “That sounds nice.” 

 

“Our home,” Victor agrees. And  _ god _ if that doesn’t sound amazing.

 

Yuuri gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “Take us home, Vitya.”

 

*

 

_ [St. Petersburg, December 25, 2022] _

 

Yuuri is grateful for Yurio’s begrudging help, because otherwise his plans would be a complete disaster. 

 

He’s been practicing his Russian in his admittedly limited free time, but he’s nowhere near fluent. If the conversation extends beyond pleasantries and basic vocab, Yuuri is lost. 

 

Which, understandably, would make it difficult for him to obtain a birthday cake for Victor. Yurio gets it for him—with much complaining—and brings it by the apartment.

 

“You know Russians don’t really celebrate their birthdays or Christmas, right?” he says as he hands the thing over. 

 

Yuuri takes it carefully, admiring Yurio’s choice. He has surprisingly good taste. 

 

“I know,” he says sheepishly. “But I think it will make him happy.” 

 

Yurio rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. That’s more than enough reassurance. 

 

Personally, Yuuri doesn’t much care for celebrating his own birthday. His family tends to go over the top with it, and he hates being at the center of attention. But, it’s nice to be able to show his love, and Victor is less shy than he is.

 

“Come inside,” he says to Yurio, stepping back and holding the door open. 

 

Yurio does so begrudgingly, stopping to rub Makkachin’s ears before flopping onto the couch. Victor is out, having declared he needed to shop early this morning. Yuuri had offered to go with, but Victor insisted he stay and sleep off the jet lag. 

 

“Maybe now that you’re here, he’ll stop moping around the rink like a kicked puppy,” Yurio says idly, scrolling through his phone. 

 

Yuuri suspects that he’s waiting on a text from Otabek. 

 

“It was a difficult couple of weeks,” Yuuri murmurs, setting the cake down on the counter. 

 

Difficult doesn’t even begin to cover it. Being apart to compete in their respective home countries’ nationals tested every bit of willpower Yuuri possesses. He knows Victor didn’t cope well with it either. 

 

“You make him happy.” Yurio manages to sound disgusted by this fact, but he twists to stare Yuuri down. “Everyone can see it, why do you think Yakov agreed to coach you for the free skate at Rostelecom?”

 

Yuuri just shakes his head and sorts through the cabinets for ingredients for tea. It’s been less than a day, so he’s not figured out where things are kept. 

 

He’s not sure why Yurio is eager to press on this front, but he’d rather not talk about it. So, he devises a distraction. 

 

Victor returns to Yuuri and Yurio drinking tea on the couch and critiquing Yurio’s step sequences. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to find the smaller, angrier Russian in his home.

 

“I’m home, my Yuuri,” he calls cheerfully as he hangs up his coat and greets Makkachin. “Yurio, eating my food again?” 

 

“Another year older? You gonna become a fossil soon?” Yurio retorts. 

 

Yuuri smiles into his tea. 

 

“You wound me,” Victor cries dramatically, coming to sit next to Yuuri and press a kiss to his temple. 

 

They’ve been practically inseparable for the last twenty four hours, and Yuuri will never get tired of being able to touch him whenever he wants. 

 

“Oh shut up,” Yurio snorts, producing an envelope from inside his jacket. He holds it out like it might burn him. “Take it.”

 

Victor blinks. “What’s this?”

 

Yurio sinks back into the cushions and glares. “Open it and find out, dumbass.”

 

It’s a birthday card from Victor’s Russian rinkmates, signed by the people that he’s closest to. Yurio drew an old man on skates on the inside—rather artfully, Yuuri can admit. Mila’s message he can’t translate, but he suspects it contains something about birthday sex. 

 

That’d be on par with her teasing personality. 

 

Victor… Victor is tearing up just a little, and Yuuri leans into his side comfortingly. 

 

“Awe, Yurio,” Victor sniffs. “You do care.” 

 

Yurio leaps off the couch. “Nope. Not doing this. See you losers later.” 

 

He practically sprints out the door, leaving smoke in his wake. Yuuri can’t help it, he starts laughing. 

 

“Well, it was sweet of him at least.”

 

Victor sets the card thoughtfully on the coffee table before pulling Yuuri into his lap.

 

“It was,” he hums, tucking his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder, lips close to his ear. “They’re growing on me.” 

 

“Hmmm,” Yuuri answers, leaning back into Victor’s chest. “Happy birthday, Vitya. And Merry Christmas I guess.” 

 

A soft chuckle tickles his neck, and Yuuri turns his head in time to receive a kiss. It’s not like some of the others that he’s gotten since arriving in St. Petersburg. No, this is languid and unhurried, full of promises of a laid back afternoon. 

 

“Merry Christmas, Yuuri,” Victor says against his lips. “Is there anything you had in mind for today?”

 

Yuuri pulls back a bit, kissing the tip of Victor’s nose. “It’s against our meal plans, but there’s cake. And your birthday slash Christmas present.”

 

“Yuuuuuri, you got me a present?” 

 

It takes a bit of effort, but Yuuri maneuvers so that he can sit more comfortably, straddling Victor’s lap. Victor’s hands fall instinctively onto his hips, and Yuuri grins. 

 

“Of course I did, silly.” 

 

“My Yuuri is too good to me,” Victor sighs happily. He sneaks another kiss, a smile blooming on his face. “I got you something for Christmas.” 

 

“Oh?” Yuuri tries to sound calm about it, but there’s a blush rising on his cheeks. 

 

“Mmm! But not till later.” 

 

“What—” Yuuri begins, only to be sidetracked by Victor pulling him into another kiss. 

 

Well. If this is what Victor plans on doing in the meantime, who is Yuuri to protest. Gentle hands slide up his sides before slipping around to trace his spine. 

 

Yuuri leans into the touch, melting into his fiance. Living and training in St. Petersburg is going to be challenging in more ways than he can count, but this—Victor—makes it all worth it. 

 

*

 

_ [St. Petersburg, 2023] _

 

Nothing makes Yuuri happier than spending a long, lazy morning in bed with Victor. 

 

It’s not a habit they get to indulge in often, not with their strict schedules, but that just makes them even sweeter. Victor, despite being a morning person, gladly crawls back into bed after taking Makkachin out. 

 

Yuuri whines and complains about his cold fingers and nose, but he secretly loves that Victor comes back to bed for him. Makkachin prefers to stay on the floor after his morning walk, which means Yuuri doesn’t have to worry about accidentally bumping him. 

 

“Goodmorning, sleepyhead,” Victor teases him, brushing Yuuri’s bangs back from his face.

 

His fingers are frigid, and Yuuri swats them away with a yawn. A quiet noise escapes the back of his throat as he stretches luxuriously. 

 

“Cuddle?”

 

“Why do you think I came back to bed?” Victor hums. 

 

Yuuri rolls over, half on top of Victor and half plastered to his side. It’s one of his favorite ways of sleeping, with one of his legs tucked between both of Victor’s.

 

“How was your walk?” Yuuri mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. 

 

“Cold,” Victor chuckles. “Makkachin enjoyed it.”

 

He’s combing his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, which feels absolutely heavenly. Yuuri likes to play with his hair in return, usually late in the evening after practice. The silvery locks are getting long, and Yuuri knows Victor is toying with the idea of growing it out again. 

 

Yuuri thinks he’d like to see Victor’s long hair again. 

 

“Do you think you’d like a spring wedding, or a summer one, before the season really kicks off?”

 

They’ve only talked in theory about the wedding so far. Between the intensity of the current skating season, and the complications involved of planning around events and training, they haven’t given the details much thought. 

 

“Whatever makes you happiest, my Yuuri,” Victor says. “I never thought I’d get this. When I was twenty-two I tied that cord around my finger and told myself I was marrying the ice.” 

 

Yuuri tilts his head up to press his nose to the underside of Victor’s chin. “I love you, and you are more than the ice, Vitya.” 

 

“I know,” Victor reassures him, dipping his head to smile against the top of Yuuri’s head. “I don’t care where or when we get married, because all that matters is that I get to marry you.” 

 

“How do you say such romantic things with a straight face?” Yuuri complains, pressing closer to enjoy the heat that radiates off of Victor. 

 

“It’s a gift, my love. Just like you.” 

 

Victor is sappy and silly, but these are the things that Yuuri likes about him most. In the safety of their apartment, he is just  _ Vitya _ , and Yuuri is just  _ Yuuri _ . Two people who found each other across time and space.

 

They call everything on the ice  _ love _ , but Yuuri is confident that this is love in its truest form, and it’s more lasting than any ice. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nope I'm not crying you're crying. this week has absolutely decimated me, but if you come throw rocks in my inbox I'll try and polish up + post the deleted scenes for you all over the weekend :) thank you again for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> As I always say, please feel free to come scream at me on tungle.hell @carry-a-world, or on twitter @carry_a_world. I would love to hear from you :') 
> 
> This fic is complete, and I will be posting chapters on Monday's and Thursdays!


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